Johanna Mason: They Will Never See Me Cry
by Arowana Flounder
Summary: 71st, 73rd, 74th and 75th Annual Hunger Games as experienced by Johanna Mason and her friend Finnick Odair.
1. Done For Another Year

**Chapter One- Done For Another Year**

Every year, two children between the ages of 12 and 18 are reaped from each of the twelve districts that make up our nation of Panem. The twenty-four Tributes, as they're called, are entered into The Hunger Games, an ever-changing arena fraught with the dangers of starvation, dehydration, exposure and murder. Yes, the tributes must kill each other to survive; the last left alive is crowned the victor and returns home to shower their district with gifts of extra food for a year.

I'm a Victor. Two years ago I was reaped from my home, District 7. When my name came out of that fishbowl I felt like I had been sentenced to death.

_May the odds be ever in your favour_ is the catchphrase of the Games but the truth is that they never are. One in twenty-four chance that you'll come out of that arena alive, didn't feel like they were exactly in my favour at the time.

The odds hadn't been in Alder or Camellia's favour either. They were the tributes from my district this year. Once you were crowned a Victor, you were obliged to mentor the next set of Tributes, get one of them back alive. Last year, my first as a mentor, was just as successful as this year. One dropped her token on a mine that blew her sky high before the Game had even started and the other died in a raging grass fire on the first afternoon, a trap designed by the Gamemakers on high. It isn't just the other tributes you have to look out for in the arena.

The mentors can keep an eye on their Tributes at one of twelve stations at The Hub. Each station is equipped with a control panel that has three screens. The screen in the middle shows lists and numbers while the two on either side shows a female face and a male face. All faces are young. At the start of the process, the youngest face was twelve years old. Her screen went black only five minutes after it came to life. She was now dead, along with sixteen other children.

Welcome to the 73rd Annual Hunger Games, I think ruefully.

This year Camellia lasted an hour in the initial battle for weapons and supplies at the beginning of the game. She fell with a knife in the temple, thrown by a vicious waif from District 8.

Alder faired much better, he'd fled from the bloodbath with a backpack containing enough resources to see him through a couple of days. He'd really excelled in camouflage so almost disappeared while his stocks were replete. He wasn't a natural hunter however, and although there was a plentiful supply of game he soon struggled with hunger. I'd flirted and cajoled sponsors into donating money that could be spent on sending him supplies to keep him going. Two days into the games and the price of a loaf of bread had almost tripled but I managed to scrape together enough to send him a loaf from home and a small knife for him to use on the hares that danced tantalisingly around the camouflaged den he'd made.

Our monitors on the control panels only show our own Tributes, a big screen that takes up the whole wall above the stations shows the live feed that the rest of the Panem sees. The Big Eye had been showing the District 2 Tributes discussing the best time to separate so I was carefully watching Alder on my screen. He emerged from his den, knife in hand when a shadow bowled him over. On the big screen we all saw the brutal struggle in which the boy from 1 beat Alder to death with his bare hands. Only the District 1 mentors will have known how long he'd been there watching for Alder, waiting for him to creep out. Waiting to murder him.

Alder's vacant, bloody face fades to black as my monitor turns itself off. My station shuts down.

"Well, that's me done for another year," I sigh, leaning over the control panel of the station behind me.

"Are you ok?" the occupant says, his ocean-green eyes flickering up from his screen to search my face.

"Yeah, sure…I guess."

I will cry for them, but not until I'm alone. Two years ago, the nation watched me eat, sleep and kill, they will never see me cry.

The only person who has seen me cry is in front of me, trying to keep his Tributes alive.

"How are you doing?" I walk around to take a look at his screens.

"Ok, I'm worried about how close the District 1 boy is to Titan."

"He's rampaging then?" My attention flicks between the small screens and the big screen. Rampaging is what the bureaucrats in the media den call a 'killing spree'.

"Could be, you've done it, you know the signs," he focuses his attention back on his monitors.

It's true, but I don't want to think about that now. Not while Alder's body is being lifted out of the arena by a hovercraft to be sent home in a box.

"I'm going to… I don't know pass out or something, it's been two days since I saw a real bed," I gesture to the generic armchair in my station where I've been resting since the Game began.

"Sure, I'll see you later?"

"Yup, you know where I am, Floor 7 same as every year." I try to manage a wink but my eye sticks closed with exhaustion.

I feel a hand on my waist, it pushes me out of the District 4 station area.

His low voice says, "Go to sleep, I'll be up for dinner. We'll talk more then."

"Ok," I sigh and start to shuffle reluctantly towards the lift that will take me to the suite I'd shared with the now late Alder and Camellia.

"And Johanna?"

"Yes Finnick?"

"Sweet dreams."

Unlikely.


	2. A Little More Than Friends

**Chapter Two- A Little More Than Friends, A Little Less Than Lovers.**

The 7th Floor is deathly quiet. Perhaps that's not the most tasteful way to describe it, accurate though.

There should be someone else here, Blight, another District 7 Victor. He was my mentor two years ago, not that I needed him. I had a strategic plan to look as pathetic as possible, so Blight and everyone pretty much gave up on me and that's exactly what I wanted. Since I became a mentor, Blight's been let off. He's had a long time being the only mentor; our other Victors are much too old now. The Games take so much from you as a Tribute, and then keeps taking from you as a Victor. Blight is almost all gone they've taken so much from him. I don't begrudge him for leaving me to it this year.

I walk straight past the now empty Tribute bedrooms and straight to my own room. I shrug off the clothes I've been wearing for two days and feel the plush carpet on my bare feet. The carpet in this place is softer than the bed I slept in as a child. Don't even get me started on the bed here. I've had a few nightmares about it just swallowing me up.

I take a quick shower in a pod with at least twenty different buttons controlling not only the temperature and pressure of the water but also different soaps, scrubbers and dryers. I haven't ever tried to work out the buttons, I close my eyes and choose at random. None of my showers are ever the same, but some are better than others. I don't bother with the dryers, just climb under the silky sheets of the man-eating bed and try to sleep.

It doesn't come, instead I think of Alder's family, are they sleeping now? Probably not, it is still early afternoon out there, outside of the Training Centre. Perhaps they were staying up with him like I was. During the Games every town square has a giant television screen erected for the people to watch their Tributes and every house has a television for the mandatory viewings of Capitol messages. Alder's family were merchants, owned a furniture shop. Had they closed the shop today to mourn their son?

Did anyone miss Camellia? Parents dead, no siblings, she was spared from the Community Centre Home For Orphans by her Grandmother. The poor old woman was so wracked with dementia though that Camellia had to support herself, getting a job in the forest with the Wood-Cutters when she was twelve. She was strong physically and mentally, which was her unfortunate downfall. She didn't stick with Alder, she could have helped him hunt and he could have hidden her. Instead she dashed for the Cornucopia where the weapons were. She took out a couple of Tributes before the knife buried in her skull but she could have lasted so much longer.

Both of them could. Was it my fault? Should I have insisted rather than suggested? Should I have trained them harder? Should I have mentored them separately, anticipating the split? Would the families blame me? Would I-

A hand touches my shoulder and I punch out instinctively.

"Watch it Mason!" but Finnick dodges my fist with ease. "Dinner time. Have you slept?"

"No, but I'll be right out in a second." I gather the sheets around my body.

"Are you naked again?" He cocks an eyebrow. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

I laugh. He's one of the few people left in my life that can still make me do that.

"Of course," I reply. "Now you've ruined the moment so go wait at the table."

"Have you ever heard me turn down a naked woman Jo?" He winks and I immediately know what he's going to do.

"No! No!"

He reaches under the sheets and grabs both my feet pulling me right out of the bed and onto the soft carpet with a bump to my backside.

"I'm going to kill you Odair!" I try to kick him fruitlessly as he drags me out of my bedroom and to the dining table, only pausing to grab a blanket from the couch to cover my modesty in front of the serving Avoxes.

We sit across from each other at the table, me rubbing the mild carpet-burn on my shoulder and him chuckling to himself, picking through the finger food we've ordered to start our meal.

We could be the ideal young couple he and I. His muscular build making him look like a classical sculpture and that tufty boyish bronze hair prove irresistible to the women of the Capitol. I'm not without my charms too, physical charms obviously, I'm not exactly known for my pleasant, amiable personality. My dark brown hair is now tickling the nape of my neck after I chopped it all off two years ago and people have commented on the depth of my brown eyes. The rich foods of the Capitol and the abundance of food at home now that I'm a victor means I've got quite a womanly curve to my body too.

Yes, we're a very attractive couple but appearances can be deceiving. We're a little more than friends, but a little less than lovers.

"Not eating?" He says, mouth full of some sort of flaky pastry that sprays everywhere as he talks.

"Just thinking about how attractive you are when you talk with your mouth full," I retort, finally picking up a boiled potato and dropping a blob of butter on it.

"It's a curse being this desirable," he sprays again.

He's trying to be funny but I know he speaks the truth so I change the subject.

"How are your Tributes doing?"

Finnick swallows the rest of his pastry and clears his mouth with a sip of the pink liquor we've been served.

"Ok, still alive when Sandy took over."

Being from a District where children are trained to take part in The Hunger Games means that there are far more Victors able to mentor the District 4 Tributes. I'd been in The Hub for 52 hours whereas Finnick had clocked about 14 over two days.

"Celeste isn't looking good though, the wound on her face is looking infected. If she makes it out she won't be as pretty as she used to be."

"None of us are," I reflect sadly.

His hand finds mine across the table.

"You're pretty." He gives my hand a squeeze.

"Only the outside now my hair's growing back."

He pushes out his chair and comes round to my side, putting his arms around my shoulders from behind.

"Outside, inside, every side, you just disguise it well." He kisses my cheek.

"Are you busy tonight?" I murmur.

"Got a lunch date tomorrow but I can be yours tonight, for a small fee."

"How much?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Laughing at the Shopping Channel people and then sleep?"

"Will you put some clothes on?"

"Yes."

"Then I can do that for free."

We gather a tray of food and take it over to the couch where we make fun of the latest Capitol trend for dyeing the whole body green and ask why anyone would need a set of one-use towels.

I don't think about Alder or Camellia or their families, I fall asleep with my head on his chest and his head on mine.

We are more than friends but less than lovers.


	3. Master Of Deception

**Chapter Three- Master of Deception**

Alder's beaten face appears at my window. Camellia pulls the knife out of her temple and throws it at me. I dodge out of the way but not fast enough and it cuts my arm. I back up and trip over onto the bed where a dismembered arm grabs my throat and I start to choke.

I've been choked before. Last time I kicked and punched and fought for my life but with nothing but an arm there is nothing to fight against. I scratch and try to pry away the fingers but they are unrelenting.

I try to call out but a girl with an infected oozing gash on her face puts a finger to her lips and covers my mouth while pinching my nose.

My lungs heave, trying to pulling in air that won't come. I let myself flop, hoping the hands will think I'm dead and let go but they don't. I feel myself getting light-headed, dizzy and then…the hand is combing my hair with it's fingers.

I open my eyes and the first thing my vision focuses on is the beautiful tropical ocean of Finnick Odair's eyes.

"Mentor or Victor nightmares?" He asks, still combing my hair.

"Mentor."

"Same."

I unlock his arms from around my shoulders and return to the dining table for a drink, my throat is still dry from the choking.

"Do you think Blight and Haymitch have it worked out?" Finnick watches me pick up the pink glass and joins me once more at the table. "Should we just get drunk every night to block it all out?"

"Doesn't work," I say putting the glass down and picking up the jug of water instead. "Blight still has nightmares, the drink just means he can't wake up from them." I drink straight from the jug and then offer it to him. He declines. "Do you want to go to The Hub and check on them?"

"Do you mind?"

"No, I'm getting withdrawal symptoms anyway, I'll come too."

I think he knew that I just didn't want to be left alone because he replies,

"Not quite the Master of Deception Panem thinks Johanna Mason," and chucks my chin.

"Alright Odair, get your coat."

We must've been asleep for a few hours because it's now dark outside the lobby windows of the Training Centre which we hurry past on our way to the basement level Hub.

The Big Eye is showing the District 6 girl bedding down for the evening. There is no Mentor at the District 6 control panel.

White-haired Sandy is still there, resting her head on a fist, staring blankly at the two District 4 Tributes dozing in different parts of the arena. She spots us and perks up just as everyone does when they see Finnick.

"It can't be your turn again!" Her eyes fall on me and her face immediately darkens, just as everyone's does when they see me.

"How's Celeste?" Finnick bends over the control panel.

"Oh don't get me started! I sent a parachute with some medicine for her but that monster from 1 ambushed her. She got out ok but he took the parachute." She bangs her fist on the panel in frustration. "Waste of Sponsor money."

"It's ok, I've got a lunch date tomorrow, I'll sort it. Titan?"

"Set up camp by the stream, it's risky, but he can fish for food."

As they discuss what they can do to get their Tributes through the night my mind wanders. I think about how Sandy must have watched with bated breath at the ambush, just as I had just before Alder was killed.

At the District 1 station, that conceited primped up princess Cashmere is listening in. She pranced and pouted her way through her Game a few years ago, I never liked her even then. She knew that her Tribute was staking out mine, my parachute containing the knife was probably the signal to go for it. In fact I bet—

"He's using the parachutes to track people," I hiss so Cashmere can't overhear.

"What?" Sandy's lip curls up slightly at my interruption.

"He attacked Alder after I sent him a parachute, now he's ambushed Celeste after you've sent her medicine. He must be stationed up high somewhere so he can see the parachutes coming in and then he knows the general area the Tributes are in. You have to stop sending help, it could get them killed."

"Celeste won't last a day without something for her wound," spits Sandy.

"She won't last a day if you help her!" My voice starts to rise and in the corner of my eye I can see Cashmere leaning forward in earnest.

"She's escaped once already!"

"Well done her! She was lucky! She's getting weak, you said she won't last a day, she won't be able to fight him off!" My fingernails start digging into my palm as I clench my fists harder.

"Mason, Sandy stop." Finnick presses a cooling hand on each of our shoulders and I see he too is watching Cashmere. He drops his voice "This is their strategy, we're being threatened into not sending help."

"So what are we going to do? Just sit tight and wait for him to be killed off?" says Sandy, a hint of panic in her voice. She's been a Victor for around 15 years now; it's taken the edge of her. She used to be a fierce trained warrior, now she's a panicky irritant.

"No, we're going to sit tight until the morning, make it look like we're torn between what to do. Mason here is going to make some friends." Finnick tosses a wry smile my way.

What does he want me to do? I can't flirt with Sponsors to raise money for another District, it's not allowed. The money would just go into a closed account for District 7 and at the end of the Games go towards making the Gamemakers as comfortable as possible until next year.

"Talk to the other mentors, the ones not on duty. It's in their best interests that they go along with this." He tries to say as little as possible but I think I get it.

"I can't make friends, they'll see me and slam their doors,"

"Be nice, I know you can be." He kisses my cheek again and behind him I see Sandy's eyes glower. "Master of Deception," he adds with a wink.

I sigh and plaster a painful smile on my face. He moves to pat me on the behind as I move away but I bat his hand away.

"That's my girl."

"I will kill you."

As I move past the District 1 station Cashmere calls out, "I like your hair Jo!" and then sniggers.

I turn around to her but keep walking, running my fingers through my bitty, just growing through mismatched-length hair.

"Thanks Cash, I like yours too, could do with being a bit shorter though. Come on up to the 7th Floor I've got a knife with your name on it."

I push through the door of The Hub and allow myself a genuine smile.

I can be friendly.


	4. Send Them All

**Chapter Four- Send Them All**

I decide to start at the top of the Training Centre's tower and work down. Every district is assigned the floor of the same number so I decide to give the highest floor a miss. Haymitch Abernathy, the only District 12 Victor, has been there since minute ten. Both his Tributes were taken out immediately, poor doe-eyed, skinny things. They hadn't stood a chance, didn't even look like they could run. In fact I think Camellia may have killed one of them.

11th floor first I decide. District 11 Tributes are usually pathetic little things too but the boy this year is built for physical labour and he's doing quite well. For the moment he's teamed up with the boy from 3, who is definitely the brains of the outfit.

There aren't many District 11 Victors, there's Seeder, Baler, Chaff and Flora. Chaff was down in The Hub with Finnick and Sandy so hopefully someone would be in. I rap briskly on the door to the suite.

I don't hear any movement so I knock a little harder and more urgently. Eventually there's a slow shuffle behind the door and it creaks open a little.

A small, wrinkled face pokes through the gap. It's Flora. She was the Victor of a Game about 55 years ago so she must be around 70. She's looking tired, her whole body is sagging and I feel like if I push on the door, even a little, it may push her over.

"Did someone order something?" she says in her soft, cracked voice.

"No Flora, I'm not an Avox, I'm Johanna Mason, from District 7. I need to talk to you and the other District 11 Mentors."

She puts a shaky hand behind her ear and I repeat.

"Oh…did you win then Johanna? I was just getting ready to come down to The Hub but if you're here that must mean Kernel and Rye are dead then." Her eyes flicker to the floor and her curious smile drops.

My 'People Pleasing' smile drops too. Yes if I'm here then that does mean Kernel and Rye are dead because I killed them. Both of them. One with my own hands, and the other with the first's knife.

"Flora? Who's at the door dear?" comes another female voice from inside and the door opens fully.

Seeder stands taller and straighter than Flora and though there is only a few years between them in age, Seeder looks much healthier too. Her hair is black streaked with silver while Flora's is snow white.

"Can I help dear?" Seeder asks with a kind smile that, after my interaction with Flora, I don't feel like I deserve. "Would you like to come inside? My, my Flora I can't believe you've kept Johanna Mason waiting outside, we wouldn't like to be rude." She ushers me inside without giving me chance to speak.

"This is Johanna Mason," Flora says to her as Seeder gestures to the sandy coloured sofas with one hand while she supports Flora with the other.

"I know it is."

"She's come to tell us that Rye and Kernel are dead."

"I don't think she has my dear." Seeder turns to me and pulls an apologetic face. "She gets confused a lot more recently. We had to bring her with us this year because we were afraid of what would happen if we left her behind."

"Is it Rye and Kernel this year? Or is it Chaff?" Flora puts a wrinkly hand on top of mine as she sits next to me. "Is Chaff dead?"

"No Flora, Chaff's downstairs. Why don't you go and have a wash while I find out what Miss Mason has come to talk to us about?"

"Ok…" She struggles to her feet again and I just have to stand up with her to make sure she doesn't fall straight back down again. "I'll go and have a wash," she says, like it's an idea she's just had and totters away.

Seeder watches her carefully and then turns back to me.

"Now, I'm sorry, what was it that you came to discuss? If it was about our Tribute Chaff would be up here giving us the bad news."

"Yes, but he soon will be and that's what I've come to talk about."

"Ok, you've got my attention Miss Mason, are you here to discuss an alliance? It is rather late in proceedings to be doing this since we can't speak to the Tributes but I guess we could send some hinting parachutes, Demetrius isn't too intelligent but that District 3 boy, he might understand."

"No, no, you misunderstand me. My Tributes are dead." I bite my lip. I usually try not to say '_my_ Tributes' because it makes them feel more like…_mine._

"Oh I'm so sorry. I haven't seen the recap for today." Seeder looks mortified and I feel sorry for her. She seems genuinely upset for me.

This is not what I'm used to from the other Victors. As a people, we are famous for killing everyone in the same situation as us so it's no surprise to hear that we don't trust each other. Not to mention the fact that we're all hoping each other's Tributes die so ours can win. It doesn't exactly make for great friendships.

Then I think about Finnick, and I change my mind. Some Victors have kept the empathetic side of themselves through everything. Some honestly want to be a friend. Seeder cared about how her words had affected me and all of a sudden I really wanted to help her.

"Don't send your Tributes any parachutes!" I blurt out.

"What?" She frowns. "Why?"

"District 1 is tracking them. Alder…that is my District's boy had just received my parachute when he was attacked, and the District 4 girl just got ambushed after a parachute was sent to her."

"Hmm…" Seeder taps her chin thoughtfully. "So you believe he is waiting to see where parachutes fall and that is revealing their positions?"

"Yes."

"And why are you here? Why not let it happen? Your Tributes are dead, what does it matter to you?" It seems Seeder might be friendly, but isn't naïve to the nature of the Game.

"Finnick is—" I don't get far before she cuts in.

"Oh I see." She smiles knowingly. She probably thinks I have a crush and am trying to impress him. It's what I would think. "Well Miss Mason, I have a better idea than to withhold parachutes. Send them. Send them all. How can he track all of them at once?"

"He'll follow one of them…" I purse my lips in thought.

"Then we pray he doesn't follow ours, it's the best we can do. Demetrius needs food, from what Mags was saying Celeste needs some sort of medicine doesn't she? If we get all the Mentors to send their parachutes at the same time it puts the odds in our favour."

"May the odds be ever in your favour," I moan.

Seeder just nods.


	5. Sometimes I Can't Be Bothered

**Chapter Five- Sometimes I Can't Be Bothered**

Buoyed by my visit to the 11th Floor I head down, past mine to the 6th.

There is no answer at the door no matter how hard I pound. The door rattles on it's hinges but no-one comes. The District 6 Victors keep themselves to themselves and none of the other Victors have much to do with them. They're on the whole…odd. They float around, not really aware of what's going on. Blight once told me that in District 6 when you win, which isn't often, they hand you the keys to your house in the Victor Village along with a syringe of Morphling.

I've never been given Morphling. It's a painkiller saved for the most severe injuries due to its addictive nature. I've heard it is so strong that it doesn't just cut you off from physical pain, it can turn off emotional pain too so I can see the attraction. I'm sure many Victors have been tempted to turn to the drug to stop the nightmares Post-Games but most of us have fought so hard for our freedom that there'd be no sense in becoming imprisoned by Morphling instead.

Giving up on the 6th Floor, I go down two more to Finnick's suite.

Mags opens the door. She is even older than Flora, in her 80s I think. She mumbles a greeting at me accompanied by a toothless smile.

I think she must have had a stroke or something at one point. Finnick sometimes talks about 'when Mags was ill' and people often struggle to understand her. I'm getting better but Finnick is the best at speaking 'Mags' and often has to translate for me.

She beckons me inside and, like Seeder, points at the bottle-green sofas while she hobbles towards the telephone.

She babbles into the receiver, nodding a few times before replacing the handset and shuffles to join me. She offers me some tea from a delicately printed teapot on the coffee table and I accept out of politeness. I don't really like tea, or coffee, but you can't turn down Mags when she offers you something, it would feel like telling a child that you didn't want the picture they'd drawn for you.

"Mags, Celeste and Titan are in trouble so I'm visiting the Mentors to get them to agree to a strategy. Finnick and Sandy are in The Hub handling it down there, I think we're hoping to put it into place first thing in the morning. I just thought I'd come and let you know in case they're there all night."

She nods showing that she understands and her eyes thank me for my consideration. She says things too but the only words I catch are "Finnick….Annie…. telephone."

"Would you like me to ask Finnick to telephone Annie?" I ask. I know that she can hear perfectly well but I can't stop myself speaking slowly and enunciating every syllable.

Mags nods again and reaches to clasp my hand.

"Finnick…you…Annie."

I don't need to ask her about this one. She is letting me know that Finnick will talk to me about Annie when he is ready.

Annie Cresta won the year before me. She was the same age as me when she went into the arena and unlike me, sought out alliances. She was strong, but likeable, unlike me. Her District partner was something special to her, a cousin or a childhood friend, I'm not sure, but she fought tooth and nail to keep him alive for as long as possible. She fought the Tributes who had been trained to win The Hunger Games, we call them Careers, when they turned on him. She killed attackers and thought she had saved him too when an unseen, untrained Tribute crept out of the brush and took his head clean off in front of her before disappearing. She broke. Completely. Wandered around aimlessly, putting herself at great risk. Wouldn't be turned around by anything. Eventually a flood filled the valley where she was in an attempt to drive her back to the other Tributes. It didn't work. She was from District 4, the seaside district, and she could swim. The others couldn't. She won.

Finnick never spoke of her so I knew there was something between them. He'd been her Mentor, along with Mags because Sandy had been pregnant that year. He could remember the names of every one of his Tributes and tried to be personally acquainted with all Victors, but he never mentioned the name Annie Cresta to me. I wanted to press him about it but didn't feel right.

As Mags suggested, he would tell me in his own time.

I was emotionally guilted into accepting a crescent-shaped oat cookie from the old woman before I left and she gave me a pack of them to take to Sandy and Finnick.

The cookie gives me an in for the 3rd Floor. If the Capitol has taught me anything, it's that owning resources can get you places a lot faster.

Wiress answers the door with silence and a wide-eyed worried look. I'm getting tired of being greeted by people who don't talk to me so I just hold out Mags's cookie. Her eyes relax and she smiles shyly opening the door just enough for me to slide inside.

Beetee, another District 3 Victor, is in the cobalt blue armchair with a pen and notebook in his hands.

"Is that Gate back?" he calls without lifting his gaze.

"No," says Wiress quietly. "It's—"

"Johanna Mason!" He finally looks up and almost jumps out of his skin. He stands up and nervously runs a hand through his thinning black hair. "W-what can we help you with here on the 3rd Floor?"

I'm not surprised by his nervousness. I've been absolutely foul to him and Wiress in the past. They both make it too easy to be honest, her flapping around starting sentences that she doesn't seem to intend finishing and him constantly pushing his glasses back up his nose. They could be brother and sister, they both resemble each other so much. In fact I have, ashamedly, referred to them as a District 12 version of Cashmere and Gloss. _That_ one didn't win me any friends.

They look too much like terrified little mice trapped by a lazy cat so I make it quick.

"Look District 1 are after your parachutes. They can't take them all so everybody is planning on sending their aid tomorrow morning at the same time to confuse things. I don't imagine you have much Sponsor money, you don't usually stay this long do you? Save your money, send it tomorrow morning." I turn on my heels and stride out before either of them can soil themselves.

Sometimes I can be friendly. Sometimes I can't be bothered.


	6. The Killers' Den

**Chapter Six- The Killers' Den**

Finnick won't be happy.

Of course it'll get around that 18-year-old Johanna Mason intimidated the 50 and 30-year-old District 3 Victors. What is the youth of Panem coming to? Blah blah blah. I've not had a proper sleep for days and I'm getting bored of being pleasant.

One more floor, I tell myself. This one will be the most intolerable.

The elevator stops at Floor 2.

Both the District 2 Tributes are still alive. They are both Careers. All the Mentors are Careers. I am not. I'm going to have to try to throw my weight around here. Cookies will not do me any good.

I bang on the door with a tight fist. Two sharp knocks.

A middle-aged woman opens the door. I find it hard to keep track of the District 2 Victors, there's so many of them.

The woman is over six feet tall and has hard features. Her nose is dead straight and her lips thin and harsh. Her eyes stare expectantly at me.

"I need to talk to the District 2 Mentors." I say, trying to sound bored when really her eyes are looking a little too deeply at me. I'm a bit intimidated.

"Yeah? Go ahead then" but she doesn't move.

"I need to talk to the District 2 Mentors inside." I push on the door, getting my foot in the gap so this woman can't shut it on me.

A smile plays across her lips, probably at my boldness. Now I feel like the mouse in the claws of the cat.

"Ok," she says and steps back from the door. "Come in."

I enter the Killers' Den. District 2 has more Victors than any other. That's probably the reason I don't recognise the woman who opened the door, they have so many Victors that they can swap and change Mentoring years.

The first difference I notice here on the 2nd floor from all the others I've visited is the fact that The Hunger Games are on. The live feed of the arena is playing to the whole floor through the programmable window that takes up one of the walls of the living area. I don't know of any other Victors that could stand to come away from The Hub and immediately switch it all back on, not have any 'Away Time'. Still District 2 are known to start training their children to take part from the age of 10, having the Games on in the background is probably soothing and retrospective of childhood for them.

There is an enormous man sitting facing the window. He has his gargantuan arms spread out over the back of the sofa and as we get closer I can see his head moving a tiny amount back and forth as he searches every inch of the screen.

"Lyme?" his voice booms. "You should see this District 1 animal." He chuckles.

Lyme, of course. I think she won the year when the arena was largely underground.

"That's what I've come to talk to you about." I say impatiently, I also throw in a 'hands on my hips' pose.

The gigantic man finally turns away from the window.

"Who are you?" he arches an eyebrow.

"Johanna Mason from District 7," Lyme says, that same lazy smile on her thin lips.

She knew me. A part of me felt grand and important, it helped improve my confident posture.

"District 7 are dead." The man turns back away from us. I feel my right eye twitch with anger at his laid-back tone. "Not surprisingly by this point," he adds.

"Brutus…" Lyme warns, she could obviously feel the heat of my rage burning through the space between us.

"No, no you're quite right." I turn to head back for the door. "What could I have to say that could have any interest to you? Never mind, I mean your Tributes will be dead by midday but—"

I am cut short as my body keeps moving but my head snaps backwards. Brutus has grabbed my hair and laid me flat on my back.

"You don't joke about the death of District 2 children." Lyme's voice is flat, not even raised.

"But he can talk so matter-of-factly about the death of District 7's children," I am absolutely fuming. I get up and rub the back of my head.

Behind me Brutus chortles.

"I talk how I like about whatever I like. Besides," the man himself chips in, "I won my Game fair and square a long time ago. I don't take threats from cheating deceitful little brats who play the pathetic princess then act the big 'I Am' when she comes out."

"I won my Game fair and square," I spit. "I didn't just sit there and wait for everyone else to die. I killed your tributes! You know I can't even remember their names! And you know what…I am the 'Big I Am' because I beat the system, I deceived the Capitol. When the whole of Panem wanted a piece of me I kept a little to myself. Be their lap dog District if you like, no one else likes you, you bullying self-obsessed pigs." To make my point I kick over the end table that Brutus has rested his arms on.

I hear a booming "HA!" as I storm out.

I'm still seething as I wait for the elevator to take me away from the wretched 2nd Floor when the door behind me opens and closes softly.

"Tell me what you came to tell me," comes Lyme's voice softly.

"Why should I?"

"Because, as Brutus said, your Tributes are dead so it must have been important otherwise you wouldn't have come."

"You wouldn't be interested, it involves helping the other Districts."

I still haven't turned to look at her so she puts a bony hand on my shoulder.

"We're not all self-obsessed pigs. I can be in the Hub tomorrow morning. Tell me."

I still refuse to turn around, but bite my lip and take a deep breath.

"Everyone is sending parachutes at the same time tomorrow morning to confuse District 1 who are using them to track the other Tributes."

"And how do we know it's not a trick to give away the District 2 Tributes position?"

"You've been watching the live feed all day?"

"Yes." There is a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Then you saw what he did to District 7."

There's a gentle pause. The elevator arrives and I step in. I finally turn to face her and just before the doors close she says,

"If we survive the night I'll be there from sunrise tomorrow morning."

I believe her. Even though the doors are closed it seems like I can still feel her eyes probing deep under my skin, making sure I'm not just a deceitful little brat that thinks I'm the big 'I Am'.

Sometimes I'm afraid that's exactly what I am.


	7. No One Knows

**Chapter Seven- No One Knows**

I am certainly deceitful.

I used to be a princess. My father used to call me his 'woodland princess' and on Sundays, his only day off, him, my mother and I would have a picnic in the woods where they would decorate my long hair with flowers. I ran barefoot over the carpet of pine needles, my wavy long brown hair billowing around me.

My father was a Logger, he worked 6 days a week felling trees, delimbing them, bucking them and loading them onto trucks to be taken away somewhere else. He always made time for me and my ridiculous games though, taught me to climb trees and know which way was north based on the moss growing on trees. We were thick as thieves on those Sundays.

My brother, Joseph, was born when I was 10. Mother brought him with us on our picnics in a sling across her chest. We called him Little Joey.

We were both adored.

So many Victors have upsetting stories from their childhoods, battle scars from before they even went into the arena. I had a loving family and no battle scars, and that's how I won.

My parents were so determined that we weren't to put our names in the Reaping Pot more times in exchange for food that my Mother took up a job at the Butchers. It originally belonged to my grandparents but my Uncle Fern took over and he paid my Mother to work while I was at school. She wore Little Joey in his sling as she served customers. After school I went to the Butchers and Uncle Fern showed me how to cut the best meat from animals as small as field mice.

When I turned 11 Uncle Fern started showing me the easiest ways to slaughter the animals. My Mother was not happy about that, they argued for ages about it. I was banned from going to the Butchers after school for about a month before Uncle Fern talked her around. Knowing what I know now it was obvious that my uncle was giving me an edge, should my name ever come out of that pot, and I think that is how he persuaded my parents to let me come back after school. Mother still wasn't happy but kept Little Joey in the front of the shop with her.

Everyone at school said I was spoilt because I didn't have to take tesserae and because they saw me skipping through town hand in hand with both my parents with flowers in my hair. They didn't know that I spent my Sundays climbing trees, playing with the axe Uncle Fern made me for my 9th birthday. Princess during the week, Superhero at the weekends, that was me.

My axe was only little but it was sharp enough to bury into the trunk of a tree so we used to have to hide it before we went home in case the Peacekeepers thought we would use it as a weapon. Father used to make a game of throwing it into the trunk as high as he could and I would climb up and spend ages trying to tug it out again. Once I threw it back down to him and it struck the ground, narrowly missing where Little Joey was playing. I was in a lot of trouble that day. Father said that if I wanted to throw it he would make a target for me away from people.

I liked having something that only my family knew about. My school reports always came back to my parents with phrases like 'Johanna really could try harder', 'Not a natural at carving', 'Johanna needs to learn to control her temper when asked to do something she doesn't want to do'. I liked knowing that I could heave my axe into the chalkboard, knocking over everyone's stupid animal carvings on its way if I wanted.

The day before my first reaping a couple of the older children at school teased me for the flowers Mother had wound in my two long brown braids, they said that I'd be picked off straight away if I went into the arena. Even then I grit my teeth and only cried about it at home. Father reassured me,

"You won't get picked Jo-Jo, there are hundreds of names in there and only one is yours. Your Mother and I have done everything we can so that the odds are in your favour."

My name didn't come out obviously.

Four years later it did.

Every year I went to the reaping with flowers in my braids. 'Let them think I'll be picked off,' I thought 'They don't know me, they don't know I can climb trees like a squirrel or use an axe like a Logger. They think I'm a spoilt princess.'

On _that _morning I wore my hair loose down my back and linked a daisy chain around on top like a crown. I wore the pretty pale yellow dress that my Mother wore to her Reapings.

Mother, Father and Little Joey said they'd see me afterwards as I was pushed along into the line of children waiting to sign in.

I stood with the other 16-year-old girls and combed my hair impatiently with my fingers.

"Ladies first," came the shrill cry of our then Escort, Matilda? Margo? Whatever her name, she wasn't at home speaking publicly and always rushed through her speech in a high voice.

"Johanna Mason!"

Silence.

"Johanna Mason?"

_It's me. _

_That's my name._

_It's me. _

'_You'll get picked off straight away Princess' _

No one knows. No one knows I can climb trees like a squirrel or use an axe like a Logger. They think I'm a spoilt princess.

"Johanna Mason!"

The girls on either side of me looked straight at me, assuming my silence was from fear, not the sheer shock it was.

Some Peace Keepers started striding towards me.

_No one knows what I can do! _The thought screams at me through the cutting silence.

When the Peace Keepers grabbed me and jerked me towards the stage I screamed.

My parents will know it. It was the scream I always emitted when Little Joey wouldn't give me back my belongings, when Mother said I couldn't go to the Butchers after school, whenever we were going to Grandma Mason's house. It was a scream of absolute fury.

It was taken as a scream of terror though. The Escort took me firmly by the hand and said,

"Now, now we're not going to bite you dear."

'No but I might bite you' I thought spitefully.

At the back of the crowd I could see my parents and Little Joey. He was 6, he must have known something bad was happening from the tension in the air and from my scream. He couldn't have known what though because he raised a pink hand in the air and waved at me. I couldn't wave back.

I thought disdainfully about what I would have thought about a girl screaming as she was dragged to the stage after her name was called out. I would think she wouldn't have a chance, why should we bother with her. I thought perhaps the other Tributes would think the same. I tried to see myself how the crowd in front of me saw me. Primped up in a sunny yellow dress with a daisy tiara, dead in a couple of days from exposure, if she wasn't stupid enough to run straight into a sword in her terrified panic five minutes in.

I could survive exposure, Father showed me how to make 'dens' to play in, it shouldn't be too difficult to make something to live in, I wasn't very good at hunting but thanks to Uncle Fern I could find the best meat on even the smallest animals. I could do it. I knew I could.

The words '_No one knows what I can do'_ rang around my head while The Escort chose a boy to come up on stage too. I didn't recognise him. Good. He would die. They would all die. How dare they do this to me? They thought I was weak, they would see. They would see who I really was when that gong sounded at the beginning of the 71st Hunger Games. The year a pathetic little princess won The Hunger Games. The year the Victor was Johanna Mason from District 7.

I'm not a princess; I'm a deceitful little brat, angry that she didn't get her own way.


	8. We Deal In Death

**Chapter Eight- We Deal In Death**

I stop off at The Hub to give Finnick a thumbs up before I decide that I really do have to have a sustained sleep pattern and head back up to the 7th Floor.

When I let myself in I can tell that something is different. There is the strong smell of liquor in the air.

Two men are sat opposite each other at the dining table. One slurps his soup and the other bellows with laughter.

They are both middle-aged and paunchy, one with dark curly hair and the other with lighter brown straight hair that tickles the tops of his ears.

The dark haired one sees me and raises his glass,

"The stripper has arrived Blight!"

I roll my eyes and flick him a rude hand gesture.

"What are you two louts doing here?" I ask, taking a bread roll from the pyramid in the middle of the table.

"We drank the 12th Floor dry," the brown-haired one, my old Mentor Blight, explains before hiccupping loudly, which sets his companion off laughing again.

"Well take whatever you want from here and go back there. I'm going to sleep," I say curtly, taking my bread roll to my bedroom.

I can still hear them from my room, laughing and shouting. Does Blight know that Alder and Camellia are dead? He must, otherwise he'd wonder why I wasn't still in The Hub. Why is he laughing then? Maybe alcohol is the right way to numb the pain then.

Despite my exhaustion I find it hard to settle in my man-eating bed and soon get up, putting a robe on over my silky pyjamas.

"Right!" I announce, flouncing out of my room and sitting down heavily on a dining chair. "If you can't beat them, join them."

The men cheer and pour me a glass of purple liquid.

Some time later, I don't know how long, my eyes start to droop. My head slides down from where my hand has been propping it up, to the table.

"Haymitch, help me carry her to her room," Blight says.

"I'm still awake you know," I murmur. "And capable of getting meself…myself to bed." I struggle to my feet, deem it too difficult and flop back down again. "I don't know how you do this all the time. It makes everything so difficult!" I declare.

"You're too young Johanna." Blight's voice sounds sad.

"No I'm not!" I say defiantly.

"Yeah, she's not!" Haymitch backs me up. "Look at her, she's aged ten years in the past two!"

"You shut up Abernathy!" I push my unsteady index finger against his nose. "It's your fault!"

"Oh yeah?" He's pouring another round of drinks. "How did you work that out?"

"If it weren't for you and this…disgusting…" I eye the purple liquid "…but occasionally delicious stuff I wouldn't have to be doing all this on my own." I turn to Blight now, "Did you know that Calder and Amellia…I mean Alder and Camellia are dead? Did you care?" I down my glass. "Did you care that I watched them die by myself? You think I'm too young to handle this stuff but I can handle death?"

"Of course you can," Haymitch pitches in. "You're a Victor, we deal in death. We're rewarded for murder, punished by life endangerment. Everybody has his or her way to cope with it. Just be thankful Blight's not a Morphling. Just be thankful you have someone in the first place."

I feel sorry for Haymitch. It's been just him since he won 23 years ago, District 12 is not renowned for it's warrior children. The Coal Mining District tends to produce skinny, malnourished children with wide, terrified eyes. Most of them have lost at least one family member to a mining accident so they all have a haunted look about them that really doesn't inspire fear or even respect in the other Tributes.

As a district, they're a bit of a joke to the rest of us. It's cruel but in District 7 we threaten ungrateful children with a life in District 12. We could never follow through with the threat due to strict 'No Inter-District Travel Without A Proper Permit' rule but just seeing the standard of the District 12 Tributes gives a strong indication of their hardships.

Haymitch doesn't exactly do his best being the face of his district. Rambling around drunk at the Reapings, falling asleep and snoring in the middle of the Live Interviews, it can't give the Tributes much confidence in their ability to survive when he's the one in charge of training them.

He picks up the almost empty purple bottle and pairs it with a full pink one.

"I'm going to see if Chaff is back yet. Coming Blight?"

Blight shakes his head and Haymitch stumbles to the door, tripping over a couch on his way.

Blight sits there staring at his fingers.

"I'm sorry Johanna…for leaving you to do this yourself," he mumbles.

"It's ok, it wouldn't be the first time I had to do something by myself." It comes out harsher than I mean it to.

"I'm sorry about that too…you had us all fooled though." He almost smiles. "I really thought you'd wobble off that pedestal and be blown-up before the Game even started."

"I know." I've never apologised to Blight for lying to him, for making him believe that he was going to fail at keeping his Tributes alive again. "I'm sorry for putting you through that Blight."

"It's alright." He reaches out and pats my hand. "You're here, that's all the apology I need. You survived." He chuckles. "The beautiful flower that stung like a nettle." He stands up, albeit with the support of the table in front of him, and makes his way to his room, but not before ruffling my mismatched hair. "It's getting long again."

"Some of it is you mean," I say, fingering the length difference of the shorter bits and the longer bits.

He smiles and shuffles off to bed.

I yawn, finally.


	9. Poor What's Her Name Again

**Chapter Nine- Poor What's Her Name Again**

Having spent a good portion of the evening thinking about my past, it comes to no surprise to me that I dream about my Game, the full blow-by-blow version. Just like Blight says, the alcohol just means that I can't wake up from it.

It picks up from my scream on stage at the reaping. The male Tribute is selected, Absalom Hawes, 17-years-old. He is handsome, no Finnick Odair but his looks will definitely help him get sponsors, chestnut brown hair, pale skin and almost turquoise eyes. He is tall too, at least six inches taller than me. I notice a twitch in his left eye, fear or fiery anger like mine?

The Escort asks for volunteers and is answered by silence. I have no one eligible to take my place from my family and none of my classmates from school like to sit with me at lunch never mind consider sacrificing themselves for me. The Capitol woman finishes up her speech and we are escorted by Peace Keepers into the Justice Building, an old glorified lodge in the middle of the town. This is where we get to say goodbye to our families or anyone else sad to see us go.

Absalom and I are taken to separate rooms and within minutes my parents are with me.

Mother kneels on the floor to hug me, she is crying.

"I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry," she sobs. "We should have done more to stop this happening."

"There was nothing we could have done," I say flatly. "I was in there five times only because I'm 16. Where's Little Joey?"

"He's outside with Uncle Fern, we didn't want to bring him in and upset both of you but he can come in with your uncle after us if you want to see him?"

"No, no it's ok." I think back to his confused little wave and for the first time since I was called out I think that perhaps I might not make it back here. I might not see Little Joey again. I don't want to see him cry. I want to remember his little wave.

My Father is still stood by the door. He is silent and his face looks vacant.

"Father?" I say tentatively. He doesn't react.

Mother gets up and slips her hand into his.

"Daddy?" I reach out for him and colour comes back to his face.

"Oh Princess, what are we going to do with you?" he says softly. It's what he always says to me when I get in trouble. He says that, and then he makes everything better.

Tears brew in my eyes. He kneels down next to me and wipes under my eyes with his rough-skinned thumb.

"I'm coming back Daddy," I rub my eyes myself and take his hand in mine. "I promise you."

"Of course you are," my Mother kisses the top of my head. "Your Father and I know that you can do whatever you set your mind too."

Father stays quiet.

The door opens without so much as a tap beforehand, and a Peace Keeper beckons my parents away.

"Here, for your token" Mother takes something from her pocket and presses it into my hands. We are allowed to take one item into the arena with us, a token from home. It's a small pinecone but I know that it's from one of the trees in our picnic spot.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"It's a little piece of home," she replies and kisses me again. "Come back in one piece please my darling."

My Father has gone blank again. Mother takes his hand again and leads him out. At the door he stops to look at me, my face blotchy from the tears, my flower crown off centre, and he shakes his head before walking out.

He thinks I haven't got a chance, just like the kids at school. My face starts to flush with irritation. My own Father, who knows what I can do, still doesn't think I've got a chance!

I clench my fists together just as the door opens again and Uncle Fern strides in. He marches right towards me and hugs me tightly.

It soon ends though. He stands back and barks,

"Wipe those tears away!"

I am startled.

"Never let them see you cry Johanna," he continues. "Even when things are at their most desperate, don't cry. Those sick voyeurs in the Capitol love to see District children cry." He tilts my chin up to look right into the warm brown eyes that we share. "You can do this Kiddo, you know what you can do. Get an axe in your hand, picture the other Tributes as wild boar from my shop and come home. You're stubborn, don't let anyone make you do anything you don't want to."

"Like die?" I say ruefully.

"Exactly, you take any knocks, you keep going. Don't let them pick you off like all our other useless Tributes."

"What about this guy?" I nod to the door. "Absalom."

"He's not your friend Jo-Jo, he's a boar, like all the others."

"I don't have any friends anyway."

"You don't need any friends in this. When you get off that train everyone you meet can't wait to see you die. Remember that. They will primp you up, tell you you're beautiful, hilarious, talented, but in the end they will applaud your death. They will go on holiday to the site life left you and re-enact what happened to you. Make alliances if you have to but no friends."

"Ok," I nod, swallowing down any emotion. "I have a plan. I'm going to—"

I am cut off by the Peace Keeper barging in to remove my Uncle.

"I trust you," he says to me quickly and calls back from the door, "We'll try and raise money to send you something so just stay alive!"

I am left by myself to organise my thoughts and put together some sort of strategy. I told Uncle Fern that I had a plan but I'm not quite sure yet whether it is a good one or not.

Absalom will be targeted straight away by the Careers in Districts 1,2 and 4 for his tall, broad stature, either for an alliance or for an attack. I don't want an alliance with anyone, Career or otherwise, I can only trust myself so I need to not be targeted. I need to be invisible.

I think about when I didn't want beef broth for dinner one night and Mother said that she'd put me on the next train to District 12, and then I'd know how lucky I was to have beef broth. Those poor District 12 Tributes, starving, pathetic kids. No one asks them to be in an alliance, they barely make it off their pedestal at the start of the game. If I can persuade everyone to think that I'm like them, I will be overlooked by all the Careers. If I can avoid the bloodbath at the Cornucopia at the beginning of the Game then I can let the Careers kill off whom they wish and make the game easier for me.

Of course this all depends on me being able to play the part of a pitiable, starved creature. My face is still blotchy from crying with my Father and all of Panem will have seen me brought screaming up to the stage.

I hear the marching boots of the Peace Keepers coming my way, Absalom must have finished with his visitors and they would be on their way to take us to the train.

I rake my fingers through my hair, combing it until it hangs in front of my face, the flowers still askew on my head. It pains me to do it, but I also rip the hem of my Mother's dress, hoping that no one who watched the Reapings will watch the footage of us going to the train and realise that my dress was perfect before and tattered now. I want to look tragic. I want people to shake their heads in pity when they see me. Poor, poor…what's her name again?


	10. What Have We Gotten Into

**Chapter Ten- What Have We Gotten Into**

I get on the train without making eye contact with anyone. The Escort shows us our rooms and tells us that dinner would be in an hour. She eyes my newly torn dress and suggests that we get changed into more…comfortable clothes.

I immediately go to my drawers and search through them. I have a critical eye and toss aside anything that might be considered practical. I want delicate items that will hang off me. I strip down and look in the full-length mirror on the doors of the wardrobe. I have a prominent collarbone so if I wear strapped tops and dresses it will look as though I am skinnier than I really am. My legs and arms have rather defined muscles though from my tree climbing and axe-throwing so I must keep them covered with baggy materials. I decide on a silk slip with a thick, knitted cardigan over the top and satiny drawstring pants underneath.

I carefully fold up my Mother's dress and put it on the bedside table, topped by the pinecone she gave me. I hope my family are preparing their dinner as usual, not moping around, I don't want Little Joey to realise anything is different, except that I'm not there.

I hear Absalom's bedroom door close when he goes to dinner. I wait twenty minutes, comb my hair over my face again and slope to the dining carriage.

"Sorry I'm late." I let my voice quiver as I sit down next to The Escort, again not making eye contact.

"That's alright dear," The Escort says and I can feel everyone looking at me. "Would you like a shrimp cocktail Johanna? Have you ever had shrimp before? It's fresh from District 4, we stocked up on the way to pick you two up."

'Pick you two up' like we were going on a day trip. I almost snort but manage to turn it into a muffled sob.

"There, there dear," she pats my hand and I notice her pink and blue sparkling fingernails with what look like little diamonds trailing down her fingers to the knuckle.

"You've not made one cry already have you?" a male voice comes from behind me. I hadn't seen anyone else in the room when I came in.

"There you are Egor," The Escort beckons him over. "Is Blight on his way? He's nearly half an hour late."

Egor sits opposite me. He's old, really old. His voice is crackly and he has a napkin always in his hand to dab at the corner of his mouth. He's one of our Victors, there's one other but we never see him anymore. People have suggested that he's died without anyone noticing but I think I saw him at the Reaping last year.

"Young Blight…" Egor pauses, thinking. "Yes, I have seen him…not sure where though. Shall I go and find him?"

"No, no," The Escort says, then under her breath adds "We don't want to lose you as well."

"It's an honour to meet you sir," Absalom finally speaks. It's the first time I've heard his voice. I'm relieved to hear that it's ridiculously high pitched for a 17-year-old boy, I'd started to worry that we'd have a Finnick Situation with him, where the sponsors were so struck by his attractiveness that they gave him anything he wanted. With that voice though my worries are allayed.

"Thank you young man," Egor replies with grace, but looks at me "I expect we shall need to talk about what you two have gotten yourselves into here sooner rather than later."

"Shouldn't we wait for Blight?" The Escort cuts in. She obviously doesn't think very much about Egor's Mentoring abilities.

"I'm here," Blight stumbles in, catching himself on the drinks cabinet before he falls face first into the shrimp cocktail. "Lets go, lets talk strategy."

Absalom and I stare at our Mentors, one blind drunk holding his cutlery upside down, and the other, just blind.

Absalom becomes the first person that I make eye contact with; we both look at each other as if to say 'What _have_ we gotten into?'.

"Some coffee Blight?" The Escort passes him a cup that's been pre-filled for him.

"Thank you," he takes it and his eyes try to focus on Absalom and me. "So, tell me about yourselves, what have we got to work with?"

I hide behind my hair again and let Absalom take the lead.

"I'm quite strong, I've been training with the Loggers for about a year now so I can hold an axe too."

Great, so I'm going to have to compete with him for the axe at the Cornucopia.

"What do you think you could work on Absalom?" Egor asks, still looking at me.

"Just call me Abe, I guess I could work on survival skills, how to make a shelter or start a fire."

Aha, I can make a fire, Father and I used to race to make fires for cooking some lunch on at out picnics.

"Ok, what about you Johanna?" This time Egor looks at The Escort, despite her luminous green hair arranged in an enormous pile on top of her head.

I shrug my shoulders and look at the floor.

"Nothing at all?" That shiny, sparkling hand is on mine again.

"Her Father works with mine," Abe informs them. "He's always talking about his children, idolises them, I should think she hasn't had to work for anything."

I'm glad he's said all of that, because it makes me hate him. I was afraid that, being from home, I would have an affinity with him but now I want him slaughtered with the others, whoever they are. He will not get my axe.

I make a moaning sound and push back my chair, fleeing to my bedroom. I got what I came for; I know Abe's strengths and weaknesses. I know that my Mentors will not help me. I know that everyone thinks I'm useless.

I haven't eaten anything since breakfast nearly 10 hours ago and it's been a stressful day. My stomach starts to rumble. I sit on my bed, thinking over my strategy. I'll need to not eat in front of them, Abe is as much my enemy as any other Tribute, he needs to believe that I haven't eaten in days, that I'm weak and tired.

As soon as I hear everyone move from the dining carriage I dash in and scoop up handfuls of dry food before the Avox servants can clear it away. I eat it in my room and make sure the curtains on my window are open before I go to bed. I need to be up early, I need the sun to wake me.

I sleep with the pinecone in my hand, it's not the most comfortable sleeping companion but it smells like happier times and I sleep better for having it with me.


	11. The Reapings

**Chapter Eleven- The Reapings**

The sun comes up and shines directly onto my face. Thanks to the pinecone I've slept surprisingly well given the circumstances.

I get up, my eyes feeling puffy, good at least I'll look the part. It must be four or five in the morning. I put on a flimsy nightdress and wrap a silky robe around me before heading out to the living area of the train, being sure to bang my door when I leave.

I turn on the television, turn up the volume and then turn it down again. Out of curiosity I find myself searching for the Reaping coverage. They repeat it over and over and over again for the first couple of days, before they have anything else to broadcast because the Tributes are still travelling to the Capitol.

Here it is, I've just caught it as it's beginning again. Betting shops in the Capitol will be playing this footage 24 hours a day at the moment. I wonder what my odds are after the little show I put on.

I don't know why they bother doing a random Reaping in Districts 1 and 2, four names are called out and four others volunteer to replace them. I imagine the ordinary children of those districts consider the Reapings as a mere inconvenience to them. Oh my name's come out, never mind there's some brute saving me.

The volunteers from District 1 are both white haired, a small male and a female with a stocky build, Jasper and Amethyst. Jasper punches the sky as he takes the stage. Weirdo.

District 2 has two warriors, Granite and Chantal. They could almost be related; they have the same dirty blond hair and arrogant stride. Granite even mimes chopping down their escort when he comes up onto the stage.

District 3 pass through uneventfully, the usual wide-eyed frightened children brought up on stage by men with guns.

District 4 I pay attention to since they are home to the reigning Victor from last year. Poor Annie Cresta. She isn't there with the other Victors. There's Mags, Sandy, Vic, Drake, a couple of others I don't recognise and there, on the end, Finnick Odair. He is very handsome, only four years older than me, everyone adores him. When he is introduced to the crowd a couple of girls in the front row swoon. I don't see it. Sure his thick bronze hair is boyishly charming and his tanned skin ripples with muscles but…I don't know, maybe I just prefer blonds.

The Tributes were standard District 4 material, the male Tribute volunteered to come to the rescue of a poor boy that had started to limp towards the stage. Red I think his name was. The female Tribute, Mary Something, had terrible acne on her face but had the strong shoulders of a confident swimmer, like many of the children I could see in the crowd.

Districts 5 and 6 were again, nothing out of the ordinary.

Just as the District 6 male is shaking the hand of the Victors, the door behind me opens. A quick smile crosses my face. My plan has worked but when I turn around, it is hidden.

"Couldn't sleep?" Abe asks, pouring himself a cup of hot chocolate from the jug that an Avox must have brought in without me noticing.

I keep my eyes wide and shake my head.

"Me either. I heard you turn on the T.V. I thought we might watch the Reapings if they're still on. Have a look at the competition since we're still up."

Looks like I'm not the only one who has been thinking about their game strategy.

I nod at the television.

"Oh, it's on already," he frowns at me and for a moment I am worried that he's guessed my game. Then he is distracted, "Oh it's us," and he sits down as far away from me as he possibly can.

There's the awkward silence after my name is called. The camera frantically searches the collection of girls for a face with a reaction. It picks up the girls around me turning to look. There's my stunned face. I cringe and hide my face behind my hands. I look like a prize idiot being dragged onto the stage. I peek through my fingers to check that my rage isn't obvious. My face is red but it might be construed as despair.

"Don't worry about it," Abe says. "We all look bad on T.V."

He doesn't. I didn't see it at the time, I was already plotting his death, but after his name is called he strides up to the stage, his chin lifted. He walks with the confidence of a volunteer. He shakes Blight and Egor's hands like they are old friends, whereas I hadn't even acknowledged their presence.

I see his strategy straight away, confidence. Acting like he's already won will intimidate the other Tributes, get in their heads. He's already tried it with me by implying that I've never had to work for anything, therefore won't have any skills. Unfortunately his plan has backfired. If I was weak-minded and driven by fear, that comment may have damaged me beyond repair, but because he doesn't know who I am, he doesn't know that he's just painted a target on his own chest.

Behind my hands I smile again. He will be my kill.

Abe talks through the Reapings of 8, 9 and 10, pointing out their obvious weaknesses such as,

"Look he stumbled there, obviously got no balance."

"She's clearly never eaten a full meal in her life, she'll collapse after a day"

"They've got potential but look at their Mentors, they could score 12 points and still not get sponsors!"

I feel like screaming at him, 'LOOK AT OUR MENTORS, YOU ARROGANT ASS!' but instead I just nod.

District 11's Tributes are a young looking 12-year-old girl, and a sad-faced skinny 15-year-old boy.

Finally District 12's only Mentor, Haymitch, stumbles as he leans forward to shake the hand of a petite blonde girl…who backs off quickly as he makes a retching movement and claps his hand over his mouth. The camera quickly cuts back to their escort, who swiftly plucks a boys name out of their fishbowl.

I don't catch the male Tribute's name because Abe is switching the television off.

"Hey!" I exclaim, and hurriedly cover my face again.

"Err sorry, I didn't realise you were so desperate to see the weedy shadows that you'll be outliving…" He looks me up and down. "Barely."

Haha, keep digging your grave buddy.

"Did you see the other Tributes?" He drains his hot chocolate.

I shake my head, but let my eyes droop a little and lengthen my blinks.

"You're tired, you should get some sleep, I'm pretty sleepy too, I'll walk you back to your room."

He does and it's awkwardly silent. He opens my bedroom door for me and I quickly decide that I'm not finished with him. I grab his wrist before he leaves and say, in my most desperate voice,

"Please, at the Training Center, show me how to keep alive," and then I add a snivel for good measure and finish with, "I just want to live!" I let go of him and slam the door.

I slide down the door and sit at the bottom, making sobbing noises. Actually I'm close to cracking up and laughing. If he doesn't help me, then he thinks I haven't got a chance, if he does help me then I get to see just how good he is with an axe.

I hear him go into his room so I let my crying sounds muffle out, let him think I'm crying myself to sleep. After ten minutes, as I predicted, I hear his door go again. He's going back to watch the rest of the Reapings.

I know you Absalom Hawes. I know your game.


	12. The Dynasty of District 7 Trees

**Chapter Twelve- Welcome to the Dynasty of District 7 Trees**

I play my part for the rest of the journey and Abe plays his.

When we dock in the Capitol train station, one of the grandest buildings I have ever seen, I'm raring to get as far away from him as possible. We've hardly seen Blight or Egor, just had each other's company and his bold confidence is really starting to grate.

We step off the train to be blinded by camera flashes.

"Who's this? Who's this?" I hear voices scream.

"Is it District 4? Where's Finnick?" others cry.

"I think it's District 7!"

I am gaping at the colours in front of me: the bright pink hair, the green skin, the gold facial tattoos, the diamond piercings, the blue dresses teamed with yellow shoes, the red fingernails, the purple eyes, the flashes, the flashes, the flashes.

The Escort starts to push me forward as the crowd starts calling my name.

"Johanna! Johanna are you scared?"

"Johanna, what's your token?"

"Johanna! How long do you think you'll last?"

"Absalom do you think you could you kill Johanna?"

The last one makes me stop dead in my tracks. I think it's the ridiculous man with big blue hair and a silver monocle that shouted it. I feel my hand twist into a claw.

"Don't talk to them Johanna, they're vultures," The Escort takes my normal hand and pulls me away. I'm glad. I would have removed his reason to wear a monocle with my bare hands and given myself away.

Absalom is swaggering with a smirk on his face.

We are taken straight to the Remake Center and before I know it I am naked on a pallet. Being treated like a corpse already, I think distastefully.

Three vile creatures work on me until I am as hairless as a baby and buffed and polished like a piece of machinery. I have never really been shy about being naked, but what offends me most is how they talk about me as though I am not there.

"She's not as skinny as I would have thought."

"I think a lot of it is body hair," one of them titters while holding up a strip of wax paper.

"If she makes it out we could 'perk her up' if you know what I mean."

"Don't be silly!" and they share a knowing look before all bursting into loud, piercing laughter.

I hate them.

"Ok, hose her down once more and I'll get Gaia to take a look."

Gaia has been the District 7 stylist for as long as I can remember. She's never very adventurous, I wouldn't be surprised if I'll be wearing a rehash of the last couple of year's outfits.

I am bathed _again_ in various lotions and potions to get the last of the smell of District poverty off me before I am left alone to await Gaia.

I'm worried that all the re-styling will affect my strategy. What if they give me a luscious sexy look? I just want to wear a sack with my hair in front of my face until the Game starts. When the Game starts I can run barefoot and naked for all I care.

Gaia comes in and gives me a cursory all-over glance while I can't stop myself staring at her.

I've seen her on The Hunger Games coverage every year so I am expecting a frizzy lilac haired, six-foot tall, middle-aged woman with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. What I see is a five-foot tall, seventy year old woman with dirty yellow ringlets and her face is round, hardly any visible cheekbones at all.

"Johanna?" she asks, putting down a metallic gold suitcase.

"Gaia?" I reply with almost too much question in my tone.

"Yes. I don't have much time, I'm styling you and Absalom this year, my partner has called in sick. Looking at you, I can see that my initial designs for the Opening Ceremony are going to have to be let out a little, you're a bit bigger than I first guessed from the Reaping Footage."

I don't quite know if she's complimenting me or insulting me.

"What's your angle?"

I am thrown by the direct question.

"What?" then I collect myself and hunch over behind my hair again. "I mean what do you mean?"

"Look, like I said girlie, I don't have time. Tell me what your angle is for winning this game so I can start designing your Interview outfit." She spits out something from her mouth that I hadn't even noticed her chewing.

"I don't know," I whisper.

"You want people to notice you or not so much?"

I shrug my shoulders, hoping that will answer her question. I don't want to tell her my plan because she said she's styling Abe too and I've every reason to believe that he will charm her and she will let something slip.

"Let me make this easier, you want to be more like 1 or 12?" She's referring to the fact that District 12 is poor and has sub-par glamour, while District 1 is the Luxury Items district.

"I don't know," I try again, and look at the floor, begging her to catch on and make the decision she knows she should make. Give up on me.

She checks a watch on one of the five necklaces she is wearing. I'm definitely getting to her. She wants to go and take a look at Abe.

"Ok girlie, here's what I think. Lets put you in some old dress from a few years ago and hope everyone forgets about you and leaves you to d—leaves you in peace."

Yes! Leave me to die in peace was what you were going to say, that's perfect for me.

I try not to look so thrilled and nod.

"Fine." She gets as far as the door before adding, "Your Tribute Parade outfit is in the bag," and I can hear her almost run to Abe's room.

I tentatively approach the bag.

At the Opening Ceremony the Tributes are paraded through the streets of the Capitol in chariots before we hear a speech from President Snow about how we have to thank the rebels 71 years ago for the situation we're in.

It's the first time some people will see us in the flesh, all primped up, so the outfit in this bag will be a first impression in a way.

I really hope it's not a tree outfit. District 7, the Lumber District, has provided the Tribute Parade with two trees every year for the past 40 years.

I unzip the bag.

I see leaves and a note.

'Welcome to the dynasty of District 7 trees'

Son of a—.

I am in a flesh coloured body stocking and covered in leaves. Not even an exclusive type of leaves. I appear to be a cross between an oak, a birch and sycamore. Abe even has some horse chestnuts sculpted into shoulder pads.

Thankfully he looks a lot better than I do. With any luck all eyes will be on him during the parade.

One of the Prep Team has put my long hair into two high braided 'branches' and I feel them bounce as I climb up onto the chariot.

I'd caught sight of myself in my outfit in a mirror in the Remake Center and I realised that I didn't exactly look like a pathetic weakling in my sheer costume with strategically placed foliage. So I decided to sabotage my outfit and had to wait until I was boosted up onto the chariot.

I stand there perusing the rest of the chariots and costumes. Glittering, garish sights, the lot of them, and I absent-mindedly sidle back over to the edge. Abe is still being adjusted by his Prep Team so no one is watching me as I dangle one foot over the edge and then…let myself fall.

The body stocking snags on one of the decorative branches on the chariot and it rips right down my left side, from the knee right up to under my armpit.

Besides the initial shock of my right shoulder impacting with the floor, the first thing that hits me is Gaia's wail.

"Stupid girl, what have you done?" she moans and calls to my Prep Team. "Unglue some of these chariot branches, we need to do a patch job!"

The chariot's branches are thicker and more robust, they cover me a lot better than the original ones had and they hide the fact that I'm not as skinny as I first appear. A lot of them hold holly leaves, which scratch me. I realise that I couldn't have planned it better. The grating leaves make me miserable so as our chariot starts to lurch forward, every time I try to wave to the undulating crowds I wince and have to hunch back over.

Abe grabs my wrist and I cringe.

"What are you doing?" He hisses in his ridiculous voice while still waving, that charming smile plastered on his painted green face. "Stand up properly!"

"I can't! The leaves…"

"Stand up or I'll stick you with something sharper than holly!"

I can barely contain my smugness when I punish his harsh words with the most pitiful act I can think of…I 'fall' off the chariot again, in front of the whole of Panem.


	13. The Girl Who Fell On Her Face

**Chapter Thirteen- The Girl Who Fell On Her Face**

This time my shoulder escapes unharmed but my face scrapes across the road as I tumble. The holly, as well, takes a few chunks out of my side. The District 8 chariot veers around me, as do the others behind us.

I sit up and cover my face with my hands, checking the injuries but the audience might think I'm crying. There is an eerie quiet that I've never heard at the Tribute Parade before. It's not completely silent, there's a murmur of concern from some and laughter from others, but it's painfully tense. No one runs out to help me so I just sit there. I can feel blood trickling down my cheek, not a lot but it's alarming to know that I am bleeding and no one is coming to my rescue. I guess I should get used to this.

Eventually Abe reaches down to me and pulls me back onto the chariot.

He murmurs something derogatory about me as we jerk back into the parade, behind District 11. I don't even bother trying to wave now. Everyone is just looking in horror at my grazed face. I could probably pull a score of 12 at the Training Sessions and still not get any sponsors after this. Who would want to waste money trying to keep a girl alive when she can barely stand still without falling flat on her face?

It's enough to make you laugh…if it wasn't what I hoped would keep me alive.

When we finally stop in the City Circle underneath the President's Balcony, Abe lets his smile drop and he shoots me a look of pure hatred.

"If you've ruined my Sponsor chances, I will kill you in the arena. The moment you step off that pedestal I will beat you with my bare hands."

Then his smile is back and I notice that the cameras are in front of us. I give a little wiggle of the fingers and then flinch and hold my ribs. They don't hurt but I can't resist the opportunity to beef up my injuries.

The cameras flick quickly away and concentrate on Amethyst and Jasper, the blonds from District 1.

President Snow's speech seems quicker this year. He stands up there in his black suit with a pink rose in his lapel. The black is, presumably, to symbolise the seriousness of the situation and the cheerful pink to show that the loss of 23 children didn't mean anything to him.

I am too busy stemming the blood and thinking about what I'm going to do in the Training Center tomorrow.

Once Snow is finished with his reminder about why we're all here and how any rebellion means the slaughter of children, yada, yada, yada, the chariots head to the Training Center and we all disembark.

Gaia is not happy with my performance, neither is The Escort. They spend the next ten minutes sighing, and exclaiming and moaning. Abe is talking to his Prep Team who are giggling girlishly… and one of them is a man.

We are eventually taken up to the 7th Floor of the Training Tower and I run off to my bedroom to check out my face.

There's the man-eating bed that once I sit on, I have to jump off immediately before it sucks me in and I spend all night there. I don't have the luxury of spending all night asleep.

I glance in the mirror and note the damage. I'm skinned from the temple down the to the cheek and even my ear hasn't been left untouched. I strip down and see that my shins are bruised and my sides cut to bits.

I should wash but I'm afraid it will hurt.

Wait. What am I saying? _I'm afraid it will hurt_, that doesn't sound like the attitude of a Victor. That sounds like the attitude of a girl who just fell off a chariot, and screamed at her Reaping.

I go into the bathroom and eye the shower. It looks like some sort of torture tube with anonymous buttons and levers. I give it a go and have the hottest, most skin-blistering shower I've ever had but then again I can count the amount of showers I've had on…no hands. At home the closest I've got to a shower is when Mother pours stove-heated water over my head in the bathtub.

With skin red raw from the heat, I gently dab myself dry with a towel and wrap it around me as I go back into my room.

On the pillow of the man-eating bed is a round sparkling blue tub. There is no note but when I lift the lid there is a distinct medical scent.

I go to the door and poke my head out; there is no one around, no sound of anyone moving, no clue as to who has been in my room.

I scoop a little of the pale pink mixture onto my finger, it doesn't burn or itch so it's unlikely to be a joke or a trap. I ease some onto the scratches on my side and feel no discomfort so spread more on and add some to my face.

I finally sink into the bed and sleep fitfully for a couple of hours.

When I wake up it is still dark outside my window and a clock on the bedside table says that it is just past midnight. My stomach gives an almighty rumble.

I put a thick robe with deep pockets around me and venture out into the living area and raised dining section.

Abe is watching the TV again. I ignore him and go straight to the dining table.

"How's the face?"

Why do you care?

"Fine thanks."

In fact I touch my temple and while it still feels raw, it doesn't feel rough anymore. I pick at a couple of bread rolls, slipping more into my robe pockets.

"What are you watching?" I ask, sitting at the dining table at an angle so I can still see the television.

"Previous years Games. This one is…" he checks a label, "65th Annual Hunger Games."

Finnick's Game. He's so transparent.

I watch for about 15 minutes with him, all the while stuffing my pockets with bacon, boiled new potatoes, slices of cheese, all to eat in bed on my own.

When it feels like there might be an overflow situation I make my apologies, "I can't watch anymore," and head back to my room.

"See you for breakfast before training," Abe calls to me before I can shut my door.

In the morning, my bed is full of crumbs. Again, thanks to the pinecone, which was on my bedside table when I arrived, I sleep well.

I had saved some of the bread rolls and bacon for the morning so I wouldn't have to go to breakfast and ate them in bed too. Then I brush my hair and leave it loose around my shoulders. It's not at all practical for physical training. At 9am Gaia bursts into my room without knocking.

"Here," she slings another gold bag onto my bed. "It's your training outfit, try not to ruin that too," and as abruptly as she came in, she goes again.

It's actually quite tasteful. A black vest top with dark green thin jogging jacket over the top, then three-quarter length brown loose pants. On the front and back are pinned square cloths with a big '7' stitched on. My front '7' has a funny stain on it, it's been recycled.

It's almost 10am and nobody has come to see where I am.

At 10:02 there's a soft knock on the door.

"Johanna?" It's Blight. I hadn't seen him since the train and actually hadn't even noticed that he hadn't been around.

"Yeah?"

"It's time to go down for the first Training Session." He looks me up and down. "Would you like to tie your hair up? Only it's very long and it might get…caught on things."

I shake my head and hide behind my hair once more.

"Ok," he says. "How's the face?" It's the same question word-for-word that Abe had asked, but I feel like this time there's actual concern involved.

"Better thank you," and it was, the grazes and scratches were almost gone over night! "W—Was the medicine from you?"

He gives a tight smile and nods.

"Well if you're ready shall we go?"

He walks with us to the elevator and just before the door closes he says,

"Spend your time wisely." He makes eye contact with me. Why did he think I might not use my time wisely? Surely even silly Johanna Mason wouldn't waste her time at training.

We are the last to arrive and that annoys Abe. He goes straight to the hand-to-hand combat station after the introductory talk and beats the hell out of a poor defenceless mannequin.

The Gamemakers are on a balcony above us, they'd be making notes on all of us so that they could adapt the arena to either complement or challenge our skills. They would also decide on a score out of 12 for us during private sessions, which would influence how much Sponsor money we got.

I think about struggling to pick up some weights in front of everyone but then Blight's words come to me.

Why should I waste my time trying to prove how weak I am? They all know, they've seen. I should use my time wisely and pick up some skills that might actually be useful to me in the arena.

For three days I hover around the Edible Plants, Snares and Traps stations. I also visit the Hammock-Making station merely out of curiosity. I'm good at climbing so it would make sense to be able to make a bed up where I'm safest. The trainer is so thrilled to have someone at his station that he takes me slowly through every material that could possibly be strong enough to hold my weight. Snares would be helpful in trapping small animals for food. I'm not experienced in hunting so I'll pretty much be relying on food to walk right up to me.

Abe has spent three days on the physical skills, showing off his ability with an axe. Personally I find his technique sloppy, the axe should be an extension of his arm but it isn't. The trainer tries to correct this several times but he doesn't listen. He does pretty well on the rope course as well, showcasing his upper body strength.

Quite a few of the other Tributes have joined me at the less popular stations but none of them attempt to start a conversation with me. I hear plenty though. The District 2 pair are arguing about the usefulness of Fire-Making, one sees it as a quick way to give away your location while the other is convinced not mastering the skill means certain death. Jasper from 1 tries to get Mary from 4 onside for an alliance, she says no. District 11 are going to stick together. District 12 do not speak to each other, or anyone else for that matter.

On the third and final day Abe and the District 4 volunteer, Red, join me at the Camouflage station. Red startles me by asking what I'm going to do in my private session.

I shrug.

"Maybe do a snare or…" I look around and choose something at random. "Have a go at a spear. I haven't had a go on them before."

Red chuckles.

"Might as well try something new. Never know where a secret skill lies." He looks down at the muddy mess his arm is now in. "Mine definitely isn't here."

I can't hide this smile.

"So you _can_ smile, I was afraid your tumble off the chariot had damaged your facial muscles."

My smile broadens. He's being friendly, and it doesn't feel like a forced friendliness, or like he's trying to find out something about me.

I look up at him and offer to help. As we laugh over the mess he's made I notice Abe watching us out of the corner of his eye.

When Red moves on to Sword Fighting I am tempted to follow him but now I know Abe is interested in who I'm spending time with I have to remember my uncle's words.

'_You don't need friends'_

If I don't win though, I hope Red does.

Atala, the head trainer, blows her whistle and announces that after lunch we will be having our private sessions in front of the Gamemakers.

I need to score low. I need to be invisible. I need to convince Abe that I don't have desires for alliances.

I have lunchtime to work out how exactly I'm going to do all that.


	14. The Good Samaritan

******A/N- Sorry for the lack of update yesterday. Here's an extra long one to make up for it. **

**Chapter Fourteen- The Good Samaritan**

After a rich lunch that I barely touch, the Tributes are called one at a time back to the Training Room starting, of course, with District 1.

While we wait I watch the others milling around. This is a perfect time to establish an alliance. With the exception of the Interviews, it's the last time we'll all be together before the start of the Game.

The Careers are in a group, District 4, District 2 and the girl from District 1 while the boy from 1 is in his session. Red is with them but he doesn't look like he belongs. I wonder if he actually is a Career. He volunteered at the Reaping but he doesn't look at all as comfortable here as the others. He doesn't have the same bravado.

Abe goes over to them, I've seen him socialising with them at the weapons stations in the Training room but they don't welcome him warmly. Being an outsider as I am, I can see all the sideways glances, the rolling of eyes, the shared smiles. They don't like him either.

This is where his and Finnick's strategies differed. _Everyone _loved Finnick, _no one _likes Abe.

Amethyst from District 1 is called.

What am I going to do? Throw that spear like I joked? Make a trap? Make a hammock?

"Thought about what you're going to do yet?" a voice says behind me. I jump and spin round.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." It's Red. "And I'm not trying to suss you out, I'm just making conversation." He blushes. He is kind of cute I guess. He's got the sea-green eyes that many from District 4 have only his have a tiny fleck of hazel in them.

"Are you nervous?" I ask.

"About the Training Scores? No, I'm just going to work my way around until they tell me to stop. Just show what I can do, it's the best I can do." He sits on a padded silver chair and pats the one next to him.

"I meant about the Game," I say.

"Oh…" His voice drops. "Yes."

"Me too," I admit.

Red looks around to make sure there's no one in hearing distance.

"They keep trying to get me to join them."

"The other Careers?"

"Yeah, except I'm not a Career. They think I am, Mary is so she's been helping me."

I frown, so someone else is pretending to be someone they're not.

"But you volunteered…"

"Did you not see the boy that was reaped? He didn't have a chance! At least I've got some experience with weapons and I'm relatively healthy. I just didn't feel right letting him hobble up onto the stage when I know I could do better than him."

My heart sinks. I respect him now. I can't kill him, and if I can't kill him then that means someone else has to or I won't win. Damn this is complicated.

Granite from 2 is called.

"That's very brave," I finally whisper.

"I'd do it again," and he lifts his chin defiantly.

"I know." I put my hand on top of his like The Escort did to reassure me. I hope it helps him more than it helped me.

"Do you regret anything?" All of a sudden his eyes are looking deep into mine. Does he know?

"No." It's the closest I have come to admitting my strategy and he doesn't balk.

"I didn't think so."

Damn, damn, damn. What am I doing? Why am I confessing that everything so far has been part of my plan? Why am I letting him become a friend?

Chantal from 2 is called.

"So…" Red clears his throat. "Did you want to…umm…team up inside?"

"I can't." I shake my head. "Sorry." Now I genuinely do want to hide behind my hair.

"No…ok that's fine." He looks disappointed.

"I just don't want to get you…in trouble." Killed. By my hands.

"No, no I understand. I just thought I might be able to help you."

Just like he did with the limping boy at the Reaping. He's just a Good Samaritan, can't help coming to someone's rescue. What a shame he's in this situation. What a waste of an amazing human being.

Then Absalom comes over. His Career 'friends' have all gone through the private sessions so he's on his own. He sits opposite Red and I. I sigh but I think only Red hears it.

The boy from 3 goes in.

"What's your plan then?" Abe asks Red.

"Bit of everything," he replies. "You?"

"Yeah same. Might focus on swords though, I've done enough with the axe during the Training Sessions so I want to show them I can do other stuff too. See what I feel like when I get in there."

This panics me. If he doesn't touch the axe then there's no guarantee that there'll be one in the Cornucopia at the beginning of the Game. He was the only one that showed any sort of talent with it, if he doesn't show off now the Gamemakers might not think it's a relevant weapon.

I make my decision. I need to do something with the axe and it needs to be mildly impressive. Not too good, I still don't want a high score but I have to make sure the Gamemakers think that with an axe I might stay alive a bit longer so they can tease me into the bloodbath with the promise of one.

The other Tributes are called in one at a time and Red and I don't get anymore time alone together. I wish him luck and want to throw my arms around him but I stay in my seat squeezing my hands together.

Abe continues talking at me about all the wonderful things he can do with throwing knives, swords, spears, bows, but I just let it wash over me until he gets called too.

I relish the peace and before I know it it's my turn.

"Johanna Mason?" Before I go I take one more look around the others waiting. District 11 are whispering to each other, District 12 are still picking through some lunch and the others are either pacing the room or sitting still wringing their hands.

I take a deep breath and push through the doors back into the Training Room.

The Gamemakers are up on their balcony passing around giant gold plates piled with food. There's a sound of glasses clinking together and a general atmosphere of merriment. I'm not sure how much time I have so I stand in the middle, right in front of them and say timidly,

"Umm…Johanna from District 7. Johanna Mason I mean…from District 7."

One of them, an enormously fat man, waves me on.

As tempting as it is, I don't immediately go to the axe. I hook up a hammock between the Spear Station and the climbing section of the obstacle course. To demonstrate its strength, I climb into it…and fall straight to the floor. I'd left out one valuable knot, which had weakened it and bumped my tailbone hard. I hadn't meant to do this and it startles me.

Ego bruised, I head to the Axe Station. A couple of Gamemakers have big grins hidden behind bejewelled hands.

I pick up the biggest, just to gauge its weight, and then exaggerate my effort to lift it. I use it to chop some logs and then put it back.

Out of the corner of my eye I see that I still have the attention of a few Gamemakers, so I pick up the second to smallest. It looks about the same size as my axe at home. I toss it between my hands. I feels good to have one in my hands again and I think about throwing the axe at the Gamemakers just to make them pay for underestimating me. Instead with a big groan I throw it at the accompanying target. It misses the center of the target but it clips the edge and sticks. Enough to show I can throw an axe at a target, but not necessarily kill it. That should do it. I go to the Snares Station and work there until I am told that my time is up.

The Scores will be broadcast on the television in the evening so I go straight up to the 7th Floor to feign rest until then. I don't want to see Abe. I don't want to hear about how well his session went. I don't want to bump into The Escort.

When the elevator stops and I open the door I pray that the living area is empty. It isn't. I brace myself for the inevitable question:

"How did it go dear?" Egor asks. He and Blight are sharing a newspaper.

I shrug.

"What did you do?" Blight lowers the paper.

"Some traps, bruised my back," I murmur, and I _am_ embarrassed by this injury. It's the first one I've sustained that I haven't meant to.

"Oh dear. We'll be lucky if we get you to the arena in one piece won't we?" Egor chuckles and tries to continue reading over Blight's shoulder.

"Do you want to put some ice on it?" Blight gestures to a bucket of ice by the dining table.

I nod. It would be a good idea.

"Here." He passes the newspaper over to Egor who laughs at something in it. He really has no clue what is going on around him anymore.

Blight picks up a napkin and folds it over a few ice shavings.

"Let me see."

I lift up the back of my training top and hear him breathe in sharply.

"Is it bad?"

"It's…pretty bad."

I wince as he presses the napkin to the small of my back.

"You don't have another tub of magic cream to get rid of this do you?" I grimace.

"Afraid not. This one just needs time."

"Unfortunately my days are numbered." I take the napkin off Blight and hold it myself. When I turn back around I see that he looks sad.

"I meant, I don't have the time to let it heal," I say quietly. "I didn't mean…"

"Yeah…go rest. I'd say I'll come get you at dinnertime but you won't be coming for dinner will you? So I'll come get you when the Scores are up."

I thank him and go to my room. As I pass Abe's room I can hear his voice and The Escort, I think Gaia might be in there too. They must be prepping for the Interviews already.

I shut my door and hope they won't be coming to bother me next.

Over the past three training days, I've been spending my time in my room trying to refine my fitness. If Gaia and The Escort came in they'd definitely notice that all my furniture has been moved around, not sure how I'd explain that. I've been doing laps around the room. I've been practicing snares and traps with whatever ribbons or drawstrings I can rip off the clothes in the wardrobe. There's a gap between the bottom of my wardrobe and the floor so I've pried up the boards and hidden food in there. I've climbed every piece of furniture more than 3 feet high. Once in the middle of the night I even lifted my bed, propped it up against the wall and tried to climb that. The slats underneath were not strong enough though and now the mattress sags a little more than it used to.

I get on with my 'Bedroom Training' as well as my back will allow until I hear a soft knock on the door.

I jump onto the bed and throw the covers over me.

"Yes?" I hope whoever it is doesn't wonder why I'm out of breath.

"It's time," comes Blight's voice. He doesn't come in.

I put on my trusty robe and head out to the living area.

Everyone is on the sofas. Abe is squashed between Gaia and The Escort. There is a space next to Egor but I choose to sit on my own in an armchair.

Claudius Templesmith, the announcer of the Hunger Games, starts the broadcast by explaining when the scores were given and what they mean. Media photos of all of us are played on a loop with his voice over the top.

"Earlier today the Tributes displayed their talents for the Gamemakers in a private session. It is the only opportunity the Tributes have to demonstrate all their capabilities in an environment where the other Tributes and Mentors cannot witness so I'm sure we'll have plenty of surprises tonight. We can all remember in previous years when we've had surprise high scores from Tributes that we'd written off can't we? Now the scores are out of 12 and a high score gives a taste of how impressive the skills were so it also helps Sponsors chose who to donate their hard-earned money to. I think we're ready with the scores now are we? Yes we are here we go, let's start with District 1 shall we?"

A picture of Jasper in his Training Outfit appears next to a list of his statistics.

"Jasper Webber from District 1…" His statistics show that he is 15 years old, a volunteer, 5ft 6in tall. Then a big 9 appears next to his statistics.

"9! What an impressive score. Let's see if his District partner can equal or better that: Amethyst Rose from District 1…10!"

I'm not bothered what everyone else gets. Abe, on the other hand, is drinking it all in.

Red gets a 10 as well and I'm really pleased for him. Mary gets an 8, I bet she's a bit sore about that, especially as she's been helping Red act like a Career.

Districts 3, 5 and 6 get various mixtures of 4, 5, and 6.

"Absalom Hawes from District 7…" Abe leans forward in earnest. "8!" HA!

He flops backwards with an audible groan.

"8 is fine, we can do things with an 8. Don't worry!" The Escort immediately reassures him. She and Gaia fawn over him as he sulks and they almost miss my score. They would have if Blight hadn't 'shushed' them.

"Johanna Mason, also from District 7…" I hold my breath and close my eyes. _Please be low, please._ "…3." Claudius sounds sad but I have to cover my face to stop the smile cracking my face open.

Yes!


	15. Dead In A Few Days

**A/N- An extra long one because I don't update on Tuesdays or Wednesdays :)**

**Chapter Fifteen- Dead In A Few Days**

My shoulders start heaving with choked down laughter.

"Oh here we go again," Abe groans. "Why does she have to cry all the time?"

There's a sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh and I look up quickly.

Blight is on his feet and has slapped Abe with the back of his hand across the face. He must have been crossing the room to comfort me.

"You are an arrogant, cruel little boy Absalom Hawes," he says and goes to the bar next to the television to shakily pour himself a drink.

The tension is palpable. Abe is in a state of shock, holding his face, mouth gaping like a fish.

The women coo over him, The Escort even shoots _me_ a dirty look! I can feel my face going red with anger again. I have to leave quickly before I do something silly. I storm out of the suite and kick the elevator door.

When the elevator arrives I press the top button. I heard some of the other Tributes talking about a roof terrace, I might be able to go up there and throw something off the top of the building with any luck.

As soon as the cold wind hits my face I immediately calm down.

"He's just a self-obsessed ass," I say out loud to myself and scuff my feet along the concrete floor. He'll be dead in a few days. Maybe I will too. Maybe Red, and 5ft 6in tall Jasper, and little Rye from 11, and Mary Something, and the boy with glasses from 6. It's one thing to know that only one will survive, but another to know that 23 will definitely be dead. 23 people that you know, perhaps not well but to look around into their sea-green, sapphire blue, overcast grey, mahogany brown eyes and know that the life in them will be extinguished in a week.

I catch my own reflection in one of the windows and just hope that my own chocolate brown eyes will keep blinking.

"Are you ok?" Blight's voice calls out across the wind.

I nod.

He sits down on one of the wooden benches positioned to take in the view of the Capitol skyline. I see he has brought his drink up with him.

"Do you think I will die?" I blurt out. "Honestly."

"The way you're carrying on…" he takes a sip of his drink. "Yes."

"Good." I sit next to him and stare out into the night. Lights are coming on all over the Capitol. They look a little like twinkling stars.

"Why don't they have stars here?" I ask, noticing it for the first time.

"Egor says it's because of all the lights, it blocks out the view of the stars, but I think it's because stars are only for people with souls."

"I bet Absalom has never seen a single star then," I muse.

"He's not so bad. He just needed a good slap. I used to know his grandfather when I helped out in my father's workshop back before I was reaped. He was a good man but spoilt his children rotten."

"Like my Father then…" I remember what Abe first said about my father on the train.

"Parents try to do their best for their children, sometimes it's not enough, sometimes it's too much."

He finishes his drink in one big gulp.

"Do you think there'll be stars in the arena?"

He wipes his mouth. "Depends."

"On what?" I frown.

"On whether they're listening to this conversation right now." Blight gets to his feet. "Come on lets go back downstairs, I need another drink." He ruffles my hair.

I'm left feeling rather uneasy. Have the Gamemakers just seen my outburst of anger? I look around me trying to source any hidden cameras. There's a trashcan over there, could there be something in there?

I follow Blight back to the elevator, there's nothing I can do but hope for the best and try to keep myself in check for a couple more days.

Back in the suite it looks as though none of the others have moved from where I left them.

Blight, again, goes straight to the bar. I start going back to my room when The Escort calls me back.

"Won't keep you long Johanna," she sings.

I flop back down into the armchair.

"We need to discuss the Interviews dear," she says.

"Johanna and I have already discussed her outfit," Gaia puts in. Yes we have, she's going to stick me in a recycled outfit and leave me alone.

"Well good. Tomorrow we'll start nice and early. I'll take Abe straight after breakfast for appearance and conduct, Blight and Egor you can take Johanna for content, then we'll swap after lunch." Then she waves at me to release me.

I run to my room hungry, but I wait until I hear everyone else go to bed and then sneak out.

There's an Avox clearing away the empty glasses around the chair Blight had been sitting in.

"Excuse me?" I ask softly and he jumps. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I was just wondering. Where can I go to get some food? Just a sandwich or something?"

He looks at me and motions with his hands from me to him and then to me again.

Avoxes are servants in the Capitol. I don't know where they come from but they must be traitors of some kind because they've all had their tongues cut out.

I think he's trying to tell me that he'll get me something. I'm not used to being waited on. For all the rumours that I'm a spoilt princess, my Mother always made sure I did my chores before I could go out on our picnics.

"I don't mind, I'll make it myself," that way I can make the massive sandwich that I'm craving and not the tiny thing I'm expecting him to bring me based on what he thinks are my current eating habits.

He violently shakes his head and runs off before I can protest.

I wander around the suite while I am waiting, touching all the fine things I could have never hoped to have in my own home before this. There's a painting on the wall that feels like a velvet dress my grandmother used to wear to special occasions. Gold vases on the sideboard catch the light and reflect it back at the walls.

I find the control for the wall-sized window and flick through the vistas it has on its programme. There's the skyline that I saw earlier on the rooftop, the busy City Circle aglow and buzzing with a party atmosphere, a peaceful park with a rippling lake in the middle. I stop at the pine forest. It feels like looking at home and for the first time I stop to think about my family and what they might be doing.

Uncle Fern had said that he'd start raising money for me. I wonder if everybody in District 7 was now sick of hearing my name thanks to him and I smile. Then I think about Mother and Father, will they sit with Little Joey and watch my interview? Could I get a message to them to say that I'm all right and that my appalling Training Score was part of the plan?

The Avox appears behind me, I see his reflection in the window. He's got the same look of pity on his face that everyone else does when they look at me. Suddenly I feel awful. I'm getting pity from a man who's done something, probably pretty trivial, in his past that has resulted in torture and mutilation.

I turn around and see what he's holding. It's a large sandwich made with crusty bread, stuffed with rosy pink ham. In his other hand is a bowl of broth.

I thank him with a sincerity that I've never ever experienced before. It was almost like he'd read my thoughts. He carries it to my room with me and sets it all down on my bedside table. I thank him again and he bows and leaves. I wonder how he knew that I wanted to eat it in my room and then remember the crumbs I leave in my blankets every morning and how they're gone every night.

I gorge on the sandwich and broth, dipping the former into the latter and discovering that the bread rolls and potatoes that I've been living on the past few days haven't given me the opportunity to really taste the Capitol's cooking skills.

I dream of that broth, I'm dipping Mother's flatbread in it, pouring some over the slither of meat that Uncle Fern has put aside for us. Then I'm pouring it over Little Joey, it's burning his skin and the other Tributes are looming over him, drooling.

I start awake by the sound of knocking on my door.

The door opens slowly. I should have known by now that any form of respect for my privacy only comes from Blight.

"Ready for Interview Training?"

I nod but as it turns out, I am not.

"Glide Johanna, glide!" The Escort calls to me. "Glide!"

I am repeatedly walking from one end of the living area to another in ridiculous shoes that pinch my feet and force me to walk on the tips of my toes.

"Glide!"

"It's impossible!" I finally crack. I had spent all morning with Blight and Egor, raking over any possible tragedy in my personal life in order to elicit more sympathy from the audience and other Tributes and _this_ is what finally breaks me.

"Can we get her in flat shoes?" The Escort asks Gaia.

Gaia has been sat in an armchair all day, drawing designs with my Prep Team around her tugging and winding her hair to get it into the frizzy style that she's known for.

"She'll be the only one without heels…" she says without looking up.

I try again at the 'gliding' thing but The Escort sighs.

"There's nothing else we can do. She has no elegance."

"I'll have to make her dress longer to cover her feet then," says Gaia and immediately scribbles long streaks downwards on her drawing. "What about a tiara? To draw the eye upwards instead?"

The Escort turns to me, eyebrows raised. "Could you dear?"

Could I keep a tiara on my head? I think I could just about manage that.

"What are we doing with her hair?" One of my Prep Teams asks while painting something blue into Gaia's curls.

They spend a good twenty minutes discussing this and we finish the session without making a decision. My own suggestion of just leaving it as it is, is completely laughed out of the equation.

And so I come to be at the studio for the Tribute Interviews with no idea what I look like.

Absalom is spruced up and actually looks rather dashing. His hair has been parted in the middle and slicked down to his head and he is wearing a white t-shirt with a dark brown suit jacket and brown, iridescent pants. He sort of looks like a tree…

My dress is baggy, white with long draping sleeves and loose over my body. My hair has been tugged up into some sort of construction on the top of my head, but I can also feel some of it tickling the back of my neck. It took hours. I have about fifteen layers of paint on my face as well.

When all the Tributes are gathered, a man with a headset leads us onstage. The gathered studio audience roars. The man motions for us to sit in the oddly shaped chairs lined up to one side. There is a more comfortable chair in the middle of the stage with another one of our chairs. It is on the comfortable chair that Caesar Flickerman will sit while he is interviewing us. He always seemed friendly to the Tributes whenever I've seen him, and Egor has assured me that whatever I say, Caesar will be able to turn it around to look positively on me.

The man himself comes out to more raucous applause. His hair, lips and eyelids change colour every year. This year they are neon green. It is almost offensive to the eyes.

The Escort, Gaia, Egor and Blight, as well as the other District Teams, are up on the balcony in front of their own set of cameras, set up to record their reactions to the reveal of their outfits and the personalities of their Tributes.

When the studio cameras turn on me I try to force a smile, to reassure my parents, and then remember The Escort telling me never to bare my teeth as it made me look 'positively feral'. I snap my lips together again. I must look like a mad girl.

Caesar invites Amethyst up onto stage. She flounces up in her pale purple tutu dress, blonde hair swinging over her shoulder.

She giggles and flirts her way through the interview, it's painful to watch.

Granite from 2 grunts in answer to every question, I'm not sure if he's trying to come across mysterious or simple-minded.

The girl from 3 is wearing an absolutely stunning dress, silver with a mosaic of sparkles that catch the light and project the image of a flower onto the walls of the studio. The big screens around us show us the face of her stylist who looks thrilled at the appreciation and blows kisses to the audience.

Red is charming and witty, just the right amount of confident. The camera shows a lingering close up of his mentor, Finnick Odair. I wonder who coached Red for this interview then.

The girl from 5 takes a long time to answer her first question about her Training Score. She sits there shaking, staring at the crowd. Just as Caesar opens his mouth to prompt her with an amusing anecdote she snaps out of it and babbles a generic answer about being pleased with a decent score.

"Let's kick it up a notch and go from 6 to 7, please will you welcome Johanna Mason!"

I've done it again and tuned out until I hear my own name. Startled I get up and try to 'glide' on my thankfully flat shoes. When I finally make it to the chair opposite Caesar he grips both my hands and kisses each.

"You look lovely tonight Johanna, doesn't she everyone? Is that Gaia up there?" The big screen shows her frizzy lilac hair and perfectly made-up (and twenty years younger) face. "How did I know this was all you Gaia! Stand up again Johanna let us drink it all in." He keeps a hold of my hands and stands up with me.

He twirls me around and I catch a flash of myself on the big screen. I nearly choke. There's flowers crowning my head, just like at my reaping, and with the floaty white dress I look like…well a sacrifice, innocent and tragic.

"Alright, beautiful, let's sit down." Caesar beckons me back into my seat. "Now, might I be the first to say that we're all relieved that you made it to your seat without falling over."

The audience laughs riotously.

"Me too," I reply shyly.

"Well it's certainly one way to make an impression…on the floor!"

Laughter again.

"Tell me, Johanna, about life in District 7, do you miss it?"

"Yes," I try to croak.

"Yes, I imagine there's not enough trees here in the Capitol for you is there?"

"No, I…I haven't seen any actually… apart from me and Absalom at the Tribute Parade of course."

Laughter. Damn.

"Oh there are some out there, or so I've heard, rumour has it." Caesar releases his enormous bright white smile. "Perhaps there'll be some in the arena. What would your ideal arena be? Somewhere tropical, have a bit of a sunbathe?"

"I guess I'd like one like home."

"Smelling of home cooking and fresh laundry?" Caesar laughs and the rest of the audience trail along.

"You haven't smelt my Mother's cooking then," I say quietly. This is my message to my family. At home we never let Mother forget the day Uncle Fern put aside some beef jerky for us and Mother didn't realise it didn't need to be cooked and ruined it. I look directly at the camera, trying to send the mental message. I'm ok, I can joke, I'm still me.

"Oh dear! Poor Mrs Mason! And indeed, poor Mr Mason!" Caesar briefly touches his ear. "And poor us! That's our allotted time with you Miss Mason. Well we all hope you enjoy the vacation away from Mother's cooking, enjoy all the Capitol food while you can. Johanna Mason everyone!" He stands with me again and kisses my hand once more before waving me back to my original seat.

I think I've done all right, I haven't over-played being weak but I haven't given away any of my strategy. Unlike Absalom, who is called up next and spends his whole 3 minutes talking about how he is going to head straight for the Cornucopia and take out everyone on the way. It's a full blow-by-blow account of how it will happen.

Even the Careers didn't sound as brutal as him.

He sounds like an idiot. Up on the balcony, all of the Mentors have their head in the hands.

The remaining Tributes go through their interviews unremarkably and afterwards Caesar comes down the line shaking us all by the hand a final time and announces to the audience,

"And now off they all go, they've got to get a good night's sleep, they've got a tough few days ahead of them!"

The audience holler and whoop as the man in the headset leads up all off.

Yeah, some of us have got a tough few days ahead of us. Some will be dead in less than 24 hours.


	16. They Will Burn

**Chapter Sixteen- They Will Burn**

I cling to the pinecone tight enough to mark my palms that night. It doesn't stop the nightmares.

I have dream upon dream about coming out of the Tribute Tube into the arena to see it is a vast ocean, or teetering on the edge of a cliff. Sometimes I'm blown up by a rogue mine, stabbed in the back, choked, drowned and even carried off by a genetically modified carnivorous bird.

I wake up around 2am and panic that I haven't done enough so I decide to head back up to the roof terrace to run a few laps. I don't do many before I realise how crazy I'm being. I sit back on the same bench Blight and I had sat on two nights ago and stare out into the night.

There's still music playing down on the street. The people of the Capitol are having launch parties. Betting shops are taking the last bets for the 'bloodbath deaths'. I have every confidence that my name is pretty high up in the odds. I take a couple of deep breaths and wander to the edge and look down.

Even from all the way up here I can see how busy the streets are. A nasty part of me considers spitting at them, but then I remember what Blight said the other night about _them_ listening in.

"Not thinking about giving up now are you?" a concerned voice behind me says.

"Red! I didn't think anyone else would be up here," I gasp. I really could do with not ever seeing him again. I've already become too fond of him.

"Couldn't sleep." I notice that he's still wearing his Interview outfit. He leans against the concrete edge of the terrace and looks up at the sky. "Missed the stars."

"Me too," I say. "Me and Blight were talking about it the other day."

"When I go out in the boat with my uncle we use the stars to navigate if we're lost," Red points at seven spots in the sky. "That's Ursa Major and it points at Polaris, also called the North Star. So it doesn't matter where you are, you should always be able to find north."

"Show me again." I pay more attention this time and he laughs as he points them out once more.

He shows me a few other collections of stars in various shapes.

After a while I start to shiver and I realise that I'm only wearing the thin nightdress I'd gone to bed in.

"Oh you're cold…here." Red takes off his suit jacket and puts it around my shoulders.

It still holds his warmth.

"Red—" I say at the same time he says,

"Johanna—"

"You go first," I wave him on.

"I just wanted to say that…I know you don't want to team up but…this sounds so awful but… I don't want to kill you Johanna." He doesn't look at me, keeps staring at the stars.

"I…I don't want to kill you either," I croak.

"I don't want to kill anyone at all."

He's almost my exact antonym. Selfless, caring, beautiful. I feel ugly next to him. All I can think about is myself, how I will survive, how I will go back to my home, how I will fool everyone. He's seen my weak persona and tried to help me, he's volunteered to save another boy from his District.

"You're too good for this Game Red," I murmur.

"My uncle always says that. Every year he told me that I was under no circumstances to volunteer. I'm 18, this was my last year but I couldn't stand there feeling the guilt of knowing that poor boy was going to certain death, not again. I've got a better chance than half the people that get reaped," he told the stars.

"Well I'll try not to fall out of a tree onto you then," I say and a smile finally plays on his lips. He has such a nice smile.

"I've got a feeling you're going to make sure that doesn't happen." He finally looks at me and his smile spreads to my face. I blush too. He does know more than he's letting on.

"Is it obvious?"

"Right now it is, starlight reveals more than you think." He twists a strand of my hair around his index finger. "But don't worry, no one else sees."

I put my hand over his to stop his twisting, ever since I've arrived in the Capitol people have just assumed that they can touch me.

"Why do you see?"

He takes my hand.

"It was the look in your eyes at the Reaping." I _knew_ someone would see. "You had me fooled again until you helped me at the Camouflage Station…I mean instructed me. You talk like someone who expects people to listen."

My blush gets darker.

"And I tried so hard not to talk to anyone," I sigh, turning to look at the skyline again. I keep hold of Red's hand though.

"You remind me of the Sun, Johanna."

"How so?"

"You seem harmless at first, beautiful even, but after a day of full exposure something gets burnt."

"Moral of the story: please don't expose yourself to me."

We giggle. I didn't think of all the days to be sharing a laugh, I'd be doing it the night before I go into a battle to the death, and with another contestant.

"Do you plan to die Johanna?" he asks, once the laughter dies down.

"Nope, you?"

"Nope."

"Good. See you at the final battle then."

"Still won't kill you." He squeezes my hand.

"Then I'll see you at the Cornucopia when genetically modified monsters are ripping us apart."

"It's a date." We share a smile again. Red moves forward and I think he's about to kiss me but instead he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.

"If you're trying to squeeze me to death now I think it's considered cheating," I say, not sure what to do with my own arms.

"Just shush and enjoy the last moment of human contact you'll have before you fall on someone from a tree." He grabs my arms and places them around his waist. "Don't you know how to hug?"

Behind us someone clears their throat.

"Hate to interrupt…"

We spring apart.

"Oh man…" Red winces.

"Wondered where you were." The owner of the voice steps into the light. Red has every right to wince; it's his Mentor, Jewel of Hunger Games Past, Finnick Odair.

"I hope you weren't trying to seduce my Tribute," he cocks an eyebrow at me, then looks at Red. "And if you just said you didn't want to die a virgin then I could have introduced you to some of the Capitol's finest hookers."

"Oh shut up," Red whines but has the grin of someone who knows they're being teased.

Immediately I am jealous. I wish my Mentors would chuck my chin and laugh when they find I've disappeared. Mine don't care, perhaps even notice.

"Right, come on then Squirt, busy day tomorrow, say goodbye to your…friend." Finnick eyes me up and down and doesn't look too impressed. I guess I'm not exactly the high-class Capitol stock that he's used to.

"Just give me a minute," Red turns back to me and over his shoulder I see Finnick shrug and go back inside to summon the elevator.

Red takes both my hands.

"Remember, I'll see you at the Cornucopia—"

"—as muttations are ripping us apart?" I finish.

"Not a minute later." He winks and before I can protest, he kisses me. It's unexpected and hard but over too soon.

"Get out of here," I give him a shove and he grins. We're both red-faced as he turns and disappears back into the Training Tower.

I give the elevator a couple of minutes to drop the District 4 boys off before I call it back up to the rooftop to take me back down to 7.

I still don't feel like sleeping but at least I've been distracted.

I could be annoyed that I haven't had a good night's sleep before being transported to the arena, but I'm not. If I don't make it out of the Game then I'll know that I did everything I could and, as Red pointed out, had a last experience of human contact before those hands that kill me.

In the morning Gaia complains half-heartedly about how unfair it is that she's had no styling partner this year so she'll have to split her time between Abe and I in the Launch Rooms. The Stylists are the only ones allowed to accompany us all the way to the arena so she leaves with Abe and Blight and Egor walk me to the rooftop where the hovercraft will collect me.

Before I touch the ladder that comes down, Blight grabs me and holds me tight, whispering urgently into my ear,

"Do what you have to do and we'll do what we can."

When I touch the ladder my limbs freeze and it lifts me up into the belly of the hovercraft.

A Capitol woman immediately grabs my arm and injects something thick and hard under the skin on my forearm.

I snatch my arm back and glare at her.

"It's your tracker, so the Gamemakers can find you in the arena, and so the hovercraft can pick up your body."

She's so blunt that I am momentarily stunned.

"You might want to sit down." She points at some steel-coloured chairs.

The hovercraft lurches into movement and I stumble to the chair. We don't travel for long, only about half an hour, but after fifteen minutes the shutters come down over the windows so I can't see what sort of environment the arena has been constructed in.

The hovercraft lowers me into the catacombs beneath the arena. Gaia is there to meet me and leads me through the labyrinth to my own private Launch Room.

It looks a little like a hunting lodge: walls, floor, furniture all made out of dark timber. I wonder if this is an indication of what is above us, or if it's been done especially to make me think of home.

Gaia sits in one of the plush burgundy armchairs, slips off her gargantuan heels and massages her feet.

"Your outfit is in the bag." She points at yet _another_ gold bag on the sofa.

With no comment, I strip down and get dressed up in the outfit I will be wearing for a very long time.

It is relatively similar to my training outfit. Thin combat pants, a thin button down short-sleeved blouse topped by a thin zip up hooded jacket. All of it is dark brown and green, except the cuffs of the jacket and the ankles of the pants, bizarrely, are neon pink. Still after a few days of running, climbing, hunting and, perhaps, murdering they won't be that bright.

"How are you feeling?" Gaia asks as I zip up the jacket.

I try sitting down but don't last longer than 30 seconds before I'm on my feet again. I pace around the room and don't answer the question.

My stomach hurts. Really hurts, it's twisting and fluttering and twitching. It's the anticipation of knowing that any minute the alert could sound for me to go to the Tribute Tube in the corner. The launch pad inside a clear plastic tube will lift me up onto my pedestal in the centre of the arena and I will be on my own. I will get a minute warning, then a 30 second warning, then a count down from 10. My mind is racing. What have I forgotten? Is one of my shoelaces undone? Should I go to the restroom again? Have I drunk enough water to last me until I find another source? Have I—

"One minute," announces a disembodied robotic voice.

Oh no. One minute to get into the tube.

Gaia struggles to get her shoes back on and stands up, a little wobbly.

"Oh I hope Absalom is all right on his own," she says.

Even after the past week, I am _still_ astounded by the woman's disrespect for me.

"Right, you should stand on that pad there and it'll lift you up into the arena. Be careful of the mines under the pedestal. If you step off before it is time they'll all explode."

I head over to the tube and eye it suspiciously. It doesn't look too sturdy and I don't quite believe it'll take my weight.

"Thirty seconds."

"Well go on then." Gaia gives me a little push.

My mind is still listing things. Have I got all the parts of my outfit? I put one foot on the pad. Once my whole weight is on it, the tube will seal me inside. Have I got—

"My pinecone!" I squeal. "My token! Where's my token?" The knots in my stomach are agonising now, and I allow myself a moment of panic while no one can see.

Gaia holds out her arms unsure.

"It's here somewhere," she turns and ambles around the Launch Room.

"Ten seconds."

"I'm not sure girlie." She shrugs.

"Nine seconds."

I see it, it's in a decorative bowl just next to her.

"Eight seconds."

"It's there! Give me my token you stupid bitch!" I scream at her.

"Seven seconds."

Gaia stares at my outburst.

"Six seconds."

"Give it to me now or I will kill you!"

"Five seconds."

She picks it up and tosses it to me.

"Four seconds."

I, thankfully, catch it and slip it into one of the zipped pockets in my jacket.

"Three seconds."

I step onto the pad and the tube seals. I slip my hand into my pocket and squeeze the pinecone.

"Two seconds."

My blood is boiling. I need to calm down before the Game starts or I might do something rash.

"One second."

I bring the pinecone up to my face and close my eyes, picturing my family picnics, Little Joey learning to walk on the pine needles. His confused face when they stuck to his pudgy pink feet.

"Tributes launch."

I start to rise. Around me it goes black, the tube runs up through meters of concrete before it reaches the surface and it's dark. I slip the pinecone back in my pocket and zip it up secure.

My heart is beating at a more normal rate now. I've spent a long time hiding my face, hiding who I am. The next time I see daylight, I will be a new girl. The other Tributes won't know what hit them.

I will be the Sun, and they will burn.


	17. Becoming Myself Again

**Chapter Seventeen- Becoming Myself Again**

I come up from the Tribute Tube and almost stumble straight off the pedestal when the platform stops. No! I scream to myself and regain my balance; I didn't make it this far playing the weakling, only to fall on a mine right at the start!

Heart in my mouth I take a look around me. The countdown to the beginning of the Game has already started at the Cornucopia. A digital clock is silently counting the seconds from 60 to 00. It's on 30 before I know it, half a minute to take in my surroundings. We're in the middle of a clearing surrounded by tall twisted elm trees; they look full so I imagine there's not much sunlight beneath those branches. There are a few small saplings planted around the clearing, I assume this is to hamper quick dashes in and out of the Cornucopia. Beyond the elms I can't see anything. I can't see any water source from here either. Once I have my shelter set up, my most important task will be to find water. I can survive without food for a while but a lack of water could end my Game within days.

The other Tributes are on their pedestals equidistant to the gold horn in a big circle. Either side of me are the female from 12 and the male from 3. The Gamemakers must have put me between those two to boost my confidence and encourage me to dash to the Cornucopia. Absalom is four away from me to my left.

20.

In the corner of my eye I see the 12 girl shaking. She is leaning on her back foot, she's going to run the opposite way. Good luck to her. The 3 boy is leaning forward. He's got no chance. I could easily beat him to the weapon stash. Then I remember, the weapons! Is my axe there? How could I have forgotten? I spent so long playing down my skills that I forgot about them myself!

There on the top of some crates right in the heart of the Cornucopia is my axe. Abe will have his eye on it, is there another just in case? If there is I can't see it.

10.

Looks like if I want that axe I'm going to have to claw it out of Abe's hands. I can see him looking at it. He thinks it's his. He must have noticed me staring at him because he makes eye contact with me uncomfortably.

5.

His brow furrows. '_What?´_ he seems to say. He's ready to brush me off.

3.

It's time for me to get in his head. Before he can turn away to focus on _my _axe I throw him a big, toothy grin and wiggle my fingers at him.

2.

He's confused, frowning. I hold up 2 fingers.

1.

One finger.

0. The gong.

I'm gone.

I'm maybe the second person to leave my pedestal. Not bad out of 24. I can see Red dashing in to my right. He's heading for the Cornucopia though, not me.

I run diagonally towards the giant gold horn, cutting in front of the people running towards it. I grab not one, but two backpacks and veer slightly heading straight for the trees.

Something whistles past me and sticks in the ground a couple of metres in front of me to my right. I hazard a quick look behind me to see if I'm being pursued. It's Jasper with a gold bow. He's not chasing me, just loading up another arrow. A split second before he lets it go _my _axe slices through his knees and he falls forwards. Absalom finishes him off with one more swing.

I lurch forward again, remembering Jasper's punch to the sky at his Reaping. I wonder if he'll do a celebratory punch at the pearly gates. I grab the arrow in the floor on my way past. I'm not sure what I'll do with it but the vindictive part of me just doesn't want anyone else to have it. The gold bow's next owner will be down one arrow. Just like there will be someone without a backpack because I have it. I can be very petulant at times and I feel smug that this is the first of my less desirable traits that the nation will see. I am becoming myself again.

I don't intend to run far but I run fast. I've always been a sprinter rather than a marathon-runner. I reach the tree line in just over a minute. I chance another glance behind me and see that no one is anywhere near me. Good. I slow down and look around. I need a thick, full tree with strong branches. I turn right, aware that I am essentially walking back towards the Cornucopia but I feel safer around the trees. Finally I find a potential candidate. The trunk is old and twisted but that will give me footholds for climbing. I can't quite reach the lowest branch though.

I can hear the screams of the bloodbath. Someone cries for their Mother.

It's tempting to run away, find another tree miles away but I'm not a hunter, or a tracker, I need to stay close to the action.

I shove the gold arrow into one of the backpacks and then put it on my back, looping the other the opposite way round on my front. My plan is to back away from the tree and with a bit of a run up I am able to kick off the trunk and reach a little higher, grabbing the lowest branch. I swing round and pull myself up. The branch feels less than sturdy so I cautiously sit up. It wobbles slightly. I stand. This isn't an ideal tree to set up camp in, it's clearly old, one section of bark comes right off in my hand as I gingerly step around it. I've never climbed a tree with so much care. At home there was always Mother and Father to fix my boo-boos. I can't afford to get a splinter. If it gets infected, there's no sponsor money to buy me medicine.

While checking out the rest of the branches I notice that the neighbouring tree is in a much better condition. Also there is one instance, just a couple of feet higher, where the two's branches interlock. I carefully pull down on the bough above me and it buckles significantly. It might _just_ hold my weight. If I can get into the neighbouring tree then this would make it a perfect hideaway. Thinking about the other Tributes, I think District 12 might be the only ones lighter than me so I'd be pretty safe up there from the others. I swing my legs over the branch and start edging along, waiting for the bough to snap and for me to fall.

When I'm a meter or so away from the place where the branches interlock, I hear another scream, one word, and it makes my blood run cold,

"Red!"


	18. Stars

**Chapter Eighteen- Stars**

I'm torn. Do I run to help? Does he even need help? It would risk my life. My uncle will be watching. The cameras will all be focussed on the bloodbath, if my uncle sees me running into fray, having escaped it already, he will be furious. He'll be furious, and I'll probably be dead. No. I can't go. I can't.

But what I can do is shimmy along my branch a little quicker and get onto that stronger bough. When I do, I drop the backpacks onto a fork in the trunk and assess how to get higher. It looks pretty simple but my muscles are aching in no time. It's been a while since I've had such an intense workout.

This elm goes really high, much higher than the first, old one. I finally get high enough to see into the clearing, there are bodies in bits on the grass and the fight is still going. I really hope Red isn't one of those bodies.

I lay flat, so wandering eyes don't see me, and edge out as far as I dare go to get a closer view of the field.

There is no sign of Absalom, either in the bodies or in the figures dancing around brandishing weapons at each other. I can see someone hobbling in my direction; another is supporting them. It's Red and Mary.

It was Mary's voice I heard and, thankfully, she was calling for his help. She looks bad. Her face has been cut up badly and her combat pants are saturated with an ominous dark stain seeping down her left leg.

"Faster Red!" She is now just hopping, unable to put any weight on her wounded limb. "Let's just get into the trees."

Red has had a slice taken out of his sleeve but other than that he looks unhurt. He has a tight grip on a curved sword and a mace, which I know Mary has shown skill wielding. I wonder if he has blood on his hands.

They pass by me and into the trees. I hope they're heading far away. I hope I don't have to see them again. At least I know that they are armed.

That brings my thought back to my stash. The two backpacks I lifted are waiting for me lower down the tree. On my way up to my new 'lookout', I'd passed a few broad, sturdy branches that, given the distance from the ground, I might be able to use as my base. I slip down the trunk a lot quicker than it took to climb it and reach my backpacks. They are bright pink, just like the cuffs of my jacket and pants, and therefore not at all camouflaged. I'll have to deal with that sooner rather than later. I drag them up to my new 'base' and open them up.

There's the golden arrow. I take it out and drive it into the elm behind me, it could be handy if a bird or squirrel comes my way.

Both packs are identical so I have two of everything, two square canvas sheets, two empty water canteens, two bottles of water purifying Iodine, two packets of dried meat, two pairs of gloves, two coils of wire and two medium lengths of rope.

Ha! Guess again Capitol because now I have one _large_ length of rope. It was pathetic but I knot them together and feel like I'm one up on everyone else.

Now I'm up here and have checked out my possessions I feel at a bit of a loss. I should get on and find some wood that I can use to broaden my living space but I daren't get down yet, not while people are still fighting in earshot. Mind you, this is the only time that I know for a fact people are putting as much distance between them and here as they can, and the few people that are still here are otherwise occupied. Heart in my mouth I decide to shin down onto the ground to search for shelter-making materials.

The only reasonable way up is through the adjacent tree but I decide to test the 'emergency escape route' by dropping from the branches of this one. It is a good twenty feet to the ground, so I swing my lower body down, keeping hold of the branch to shorten the drop by just over 5 more feet. I fall the last fifteen feet, pointing my toes, like Father showed me, and dropping into a roll to cushion the impact.

I hope I can find my way back, but I don't have to wander too far before I find some good sized logs that would do the trick. I drag them as quietly as I can back to my new home and just as I'm standing back to puzzle out how I'm going to get them into the tree the first cannon sounds.

The bloodbath must be over. Nine cannons boom through the arena, nine fallen Tributes. I'll have to wait for the daily round up to find out whether Absalom made it. I hope he didn't, I hope after all his arrogance that he went down crying under a real Career's knife.

I remember my new _long_ rope and shimmy up into my tree to loop my rope around a strong branch and then drop it down to the ground. I tie up the logs I've retrieved and for the third time, climb back up and heave the logs up to me. One of them is too short to reach between the two branches I have in mind to make a platform so I put it to one side. I have three good-sized ones so I lash them to the tree and in no time I have a 3ft by 5ft platform to sleep on when night falls.

When it starts to get dusky I remember that I need to think about food. I've got the dried meat for tonight but need to think about the future. I take the wire and set up some dodgy snares a few meters from my tree, maybe I'll catch a stupefied rabbit.

On my way back, I peek through the trees towards the Cornucopia. There is a fire there. It must be the Careers because no one else would have the luxury of making a fire without fear of giving their location away.

I'm back in my tree and eating half a packet of dried beef when the rain starts. I jump up immediately to check how much the rain is permeating the leaves of the trees. There are a few drops coming through, not a lot but enough to make my night very uncomfortable if my supplies get wet and if I catch a cold, my time will be very unpleasant indeed.

I hook up one of the canvas squares above the platform and then sit with the other one wrapped around me. Hopefully it will rain a lot and fill some puddles enough for me to gather water in the morning tomorrow, and my canvas roof will, with luck, hold some water too for tonight.

Above me I can hear the first bars of a familiar tune. It's the Panem anthem. It's time for the death count. I put the second canvas square over my head and climb to my lookout. Up in the sky shines the Capitol seal. It is followed by a list of 'The Fallen', a headshot of each Tribute, the same one they used for their Training Scores, along with their District number.

Jasper's face is the first.

Then it jumps straight to my neighbour from the pedestals, the boy from District 3. That means that Amethyst and the District 2 Tributes are still alive and are probably the ones sat around the fire not 300 meters from me.

The girl from District 3.

The girl from 5.

The boy with glasses from 6.

The girl from 8. No Absalom then.

The boy from 9.

The girl from 10.

The boy from 12.

Then the seal reappears. I guess my other neighbour, the girl from 12, made it out and survived the first day.

As I'm staring at the space where the seal has disappeared from, thinking about the faces of the dead, I realise that I am staring at something. Stars. Does that mean the Gamemakers had been listening in on the rooftop?

Also the fact that I can see the stars means there are no clouds in the sky, so where is the rain coming from? The rain is artificial, which means it's more than likely dangerous. I look around, the leaves aren't melting and I can't hear the Careers screaming so it can't be acid rain or anything that foul. I decide not to try drinking it until morning though so I can assess it properly.

I go back down to the platform and before I roll myself back up in my makeshift blanket I unpin my hair from the round bun Gaia had sculpted it into in the Launch Room. I feel more like myself with it around my face but it isn't the most practical hairstyle so I put it into two plaits down my shoulders and tie them off with the last of my wire. All the while I am thinking about those stars. What do they mean? Are they just stars? If they are, is Red looking up at them now and thinking of home…maybe me? Or are the Gamemakers looking through them, loading up their first trap to spring the girl who lied?

Time to bed down for the night in my little tree house. I'm pretty confident that no one will be able to creep up on me up here…unless, of course, they have that gold bow.


	19. Water

Chapter Nineteen- Water

I don't get much sleep. Every sound wakes me. The wind in the trees wakes me from a dream about falling from the tree. The creaking of wood wakes me from a dream about being fallen on by Absalom wielding my axe. One of my snares going off wakes me from a dream about man-eating squirrels.

Eventually dawn comes and I am both relieved and anxious to see the sun. I have survived the first day, but not slept. I'm thirsty and exhausted. The dried meat is slightly salted which makes the dryness of my mouth worse.

I remember the sound of my snare going off in the night and eagerly think about what I could have caught. As I stand up, my head hits the canvas. Water! The rain! I climb around the trunk to inspect my makeshift roof. What? No water. But I heard it falling on the material! There are no puddles around to indicate that the water has run off…in fact, as I get down from the tree to check out my snare, I see there is no evidence of last night's rain at all. The ground doesn't even feel wet, it's dry as dust.

The snare is a bust too. Nothing. Maybe the animal that set it off escaped, or perhaps it was just badly made and set itself off.

Climbing back up to my base is getting even harder. I want to sleep again but I know I can't. The Careers will be on the move today so I need to use my time wisely. Also if the Gamemakers see that I'm getting too comfortable, they may send something after me to make my footage more 'interesting'. I need to act like I have a plan, I need to make the audience think I have something up my sleeve.

From my lookout I see that the Careers are rebuilding their fire, probably to prepare breakfast. What do they have over there? Do they have water? My lips are starting to smack together at the thought. I look above me and wonder if the tree goes above the rest of the tree line.

It's a massive struggle, it takes me about an hour to get as high as I dare with frequent breaks, but eventually I can see across the arena. It's heart breaking. Trees as far as the eye can see. No lake or river or visible water source at all. The only break in the vista is the sapling littered Cornucopia clearing.

This is no fun. We'll all be dead this time tomorrow, not exactly thrilling viewing. What are the Gamemakers playing at? Do they want us to resort to drinking our own urine or the blood of animals to survive? It's low even for them.

What am I going to do? Nine are dead, fifteen still alive. I can't power through killing fourteen other Tributes before I die of dehydration, I'm exhausted already! My head is throbbing and I feel sick. My only consolation is that I'm probably not the only one feeling like this.

As if to prove my point, a cannon booms.

I panic slightly, are the Careers gone already? I slip down to my lookout, but even from up here I can hear their laughter still in the clearing. They don't sound like they're dehydrated but they do sound like they're suiting up to move out.

On my climb down to my lookout in my thirsty daze I mindlessly grab a stem instead of the tougher branch it's next to and I bump down a couple of meters, falling onto my platform with a loud crash.

I hold my breath and lie still. My hip hurts and I've been winded but I daren't even gasp.

"Did you hear that?" a female voice says, I think it must be Amethyst. They're closer than I thought.

"What?" another girl replies, probably Chantal from District 2.

"Something in the trees,"

I close my eyes, I know that doesn't make me invisible but I can't help wishing it did.

"Where?"

"Over there,"

Their footsteps get closer and I pray that I remembered to hide my bright pink backpack under the dark green canvas square. I think I did. Didn't I?

They are very close to my tree now. If I dared open my eyes I'm sure I'd be able to see them through the small cracks in the platform. Still holding my breath, I open one eye. It falls on the shorter log that I put to one side yesterday. Without even thinking I bring back my right leg, hip screaming in pain, and kick it hard. It shoots off the platform and barrels through the branches below me.

One of the girls squeals in surprise.

The other laughs at her.

"They're old trees, idiot," says Chantal. I hear her grab a handful of flaky bark off my old 'entrance' tree. "Falling apart look."

"What's going on?" a male voice calls from further away and there are running feet coming towards me. Granite.

"Amethyst got spooked by the scary forest," Chantal jeers.

"Shut up!" Amethyst moans.

They all laugh at her and it sounds like there's another voice with them.

"Don't worry Amy, I'll protect you from the scary trees," says the extra voice. Absalom.

My blood boils. _Amy. _What a slimy creep!

"I'm never gonna live this down am I?" she whines. "Let's just move on. There are piggies out there that need spearing."

"I hope they squeal!" Granite laughs and finally they move away.

My heart is still pounding. I know the cameras will be on me now to get my reaction to my District partner's betrayal.

I try to spring to my feet but my hip feels like it's bruised badly, and my head pounds with every beat of my heart, which is racing. Instead of springing to my feet I settle with propping myself up against the trunk, my breathing laboured. I need to move but I can't.

I'm so tired and my eyes droop closed. No. I try to fight it but I can't and I slip out of consciousness.

I am not out for long, the sun hasn't moved very far across the sky but I am woken by something falling into my lap.

I pry my eyelids open and see that it's a silver parachute. A sponsor gift! It can't be, surely I don't have any sponsors? Then I remember Uncle Fern's promise to scrape together some money to send me something. It's only Day Two so gifts are still relatively affordable. Once the Game picks up and there are only a few Tributes left gifts will be extortionately expensive. This is probably the only day my Uncle will be able to afford to send me anything.

I eagerly open it up. It's a small bottle of water, no more than a quarter of a litre but I resist the urge to gulp it all down at once. Over an hour I work on the water, my headache reduces but doesn't disappear; I'll need more for that. I get the energy to stand without wobbling though and start to think about how the Careers and Abe were so full of life. They must have water. Maybe there's some at their camp. They've gone hunting. This is my chance to be sneaky and get some more supplies.

I finish one of my packets of meat and empty one of my backpacks before sliding out of the tree, with much protestation from my hip.

I stick to the tree line just in case they've left a guard at their camp. Before I left the tree I turned up the cuffs on my jacket and my pants so the neon pink doesn't give me away.

There's the stash, most of it has been piled up right inside the Cornucopia, perfect to defend…if you're home. Idiots.

Throwing a few cautious looks around I decide to just bite the bullet and dash in and dash out. Dancing around the saplings I enter the gold horn, my feet pounding on the metal. If the Careers are anywhere nearby, they will hear the thundering noise. I really do have to be done in seconds.

The collection is bounteous! Crates of food, real food, not just dried, salty meat. I shove some packs of grapes into my bag, a hunk of pre-cooked ham also goes in. Five large bread rolls that I liberate from a crate of at least 50 join them. There's no water unfortunately and I am baffled. What have the Career's been doing to stay hydrated then? I delve deeper into the horn and my shoes continue assaulting the metal underfoot. I decide to slip them off, just while I'm in here and put them on top of a crate. My socks make me slide around so they come off too. Still no water.

I emerge from the Cornucopia to search their campfire. There, something, a funny shape. I hold it up, it is broad at the top and decreases to a smaller tube. It's a funnel! Immediately I know what the Gamemakers created that rain for, it's the only water source in the whole arena. When will it rain next? There's one two-litre bottle half empty next to the smouldering remains of the fire. I down it. It tastes so sweet. I'm so consumed with the pleasure of the water trickling down my dry throat that I almost don't hear the rustling behind me.

I jump up and turn around, dropping the bottle to the floor. A face stares at me from the bushes. It's a boy.

Another cannon booms and it is followed by the sound of triumphant laughter not far away. They've found and executed their first piggy.

The face continues to stare at me in horror. We both have a choice. I have the funnel. If he wants it, he can come and fight me for it. If he has a weapon he will win, as there are none here. But, if he does choose to fight me, the Careers will hear and come to the fray. We both need to get out of the clearing, but how desperately does he need food and water?

Desperately, he tears out of the bushes towards me, arms outstretched to wrestle the funnel from my hands. He has no weapon. I punch him full in the face and kick him in the head as soon as he hits the ground. He doesn't offer any more resistance and I run. I reach the trees just as the Careers crash through into the clearing. I drop to the ground on top of my bright pink bag. The boy is still unconscious.

"What's this?" Granite exclaims. They've seen him.

"It looks like a piggy that thinks it's a snake!" Amethyst squeals, she has the gold bow on her back and I wonder if perhaps her District partner's demise was part of a plan. "Abe, check the supplies!"

"The funnel's gone!" cries Chantal.

Granite lifts him up by the hood of his jacket and the boy struggles to gain consciousness.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Granite bellows.

"The bread's open and the ham we were going to have for lunch is gone!" Abe calls from the Cornucopia.

"Where's our stuff?" Chantal holds up a knife to the poor boys throat.

"I don't know," he mumbles.

She whips the knife up and slices his cheek, which opens him up in more ways than one.

"Someone took it!" he shouts frantically.

"You did you pathetic worm!" Amethyst screams in his face.

"Calm down Amy," Abe appears and puts his arms around her waist. Yuck. "Look." In his hands he has my shoes. "Someone else was here, and now they have no shoes. He has shoes."

"Who was it?" Chantal presses the knife to his other cheek. "Not your District partner, I got her yesterday."

"It was a girl, the one who fell off her chariot!" He starts blubbing.

"Johanna?" Abe says, surprised. "I thought the cannon this morning was for her. She's impressed me."

Oh what a high honour.

"She's got a lot of nerve coming into our camp and taking our stuff," spits Amethyst.

More than you know Amy, more than you know.

"Grab us some bread, we'll have lunch on the move, she can't have got far." Granite orders. "My new friend and I are going on a little walk." He stalks off, still carrying the boy by the hood.

The cannon sounds almost as soon as they disappear from sight.


	20. Becoming Something Else

**Chapter Twenty- Becoming Something Else**

The Careers pack up their lunch and are about to head out when Absalom stops them.

"Someone should stay and guard the supplies, in case she comes back."

"Sounds like you just volunteered," Granite replies.

Damn it, if someone stays there, I'll have no chance at getting away. I'll be spending the best part of the rest of the day laying flat on the floor unable to move.

It's a really, really uncomfortable afternoon for me. Absalom stays behind and paces around the campfire looking side to side unrelenting.

Another cannon fires that afternoon. The Careers are indeed moving quickly.

When they return at dusk I am aching. I just want to jump up and run to stretch my legs but that really would be a foolish thing to do.

The Careers settle down around the campfire and start their inane babbling. Bravado all of it but it gives me an insight into the depth of Absalom's betrayal. From the sounds of it they've been planning for a long time. Jasper's death was only step one. They next planned to lure Mary and Red into the group and then double-cross them. They must have worked it out because Granite complains that he could have finished Mary off if that 'damn fisherman hadn't stood in my way'. From the anger in their voices I know that if they find the District 4 Tributes they will be in a lot of trouble.

More revealing is the conversation Granite and Chantal partake in when Abe and Amethyst settle off to sleep.

"Can't wait until I can stick my knife in that prissy blonde princess." Chantal spits. "You know she told me today that she took the bow so she didn't get blood on her. Why would you volunteer for The Hunger Games if you don't want to get blood on you?"

"Calm down Chan," Granite says gruffly. "Just a couple more days. We're better in a group at the start you know that. Two more days, until the numbers come down and then we'll get them while they're sleeping."

"What about the 7 girl?"

"She's miles away by now."

"With no shoes on? We should have done a sweep of the immediate perimeter like I said!" Chantal stamps her feet and Granite throws a look at the sleeping forms before shushing his partner.

"We'll do it first thing in the morning. Track her down, Abe's proved quite handy at that, that's how we got the boy from 8 this morning."

Oh really? Another thing Absalom's kept to himself.

"He should be able to interpret her movements better, he's been living with her for a week."

The anthem starts and the sky transforms again. 'The Fallen' for today are:

The girl from District 6.

The boy from 8.

The boy from 10, the one who'd fought me for the funnel.

The girl from District 12, poor thing.

Four deaths today, eleven of us left. I try to think about who they might be: me, Abe, Amethyst, Granite and Chantal, Red and Mary, the District 11 pair, the boy from 5 and the girl from 9.

Granite and Chantal chat more about the deaths they were responsible for and discuss their own statistics and what that might mean for their odds.

Eventually they settle down and agree to take shifts sleeping to make sure 'that sneaky piggy from 7' doesn't creep up on them, oh if only they knew.

Their plan lasts about an hour before they are both snoring softly.

I wriggle backwards, staying down until I am a few meters into the trees. When I get up every joint in my body cracks back into place. Ow. The only thing that feels good is the sensation of the forest floor on my bare feet. I feel like a child again, a real child, not a warrior child in the midst of a homicidal game. I swing the backpack onto my back, thankful that my stomach hadn't rumbled during the afternoon. I'm starving!

I take my hair out of the plaits and let it flow free as I run through the dark forest. I'm a woodland princes again, I feel light, I feel free. I get caught in one of my own snares but it is so badly made that I just wriggle my foot out of it and chuckle to myself. I climb up the old tree and crawl under my canvas roof.

This will be my last night here. If what the District 2 Tributes say is true, and Abe is a good tracker, he will follow my movements back here. I've come and gone so many times I must be carving a trail through the vegetation on the forest floor. I'll have to be up before dawn and slip away into the night. On the positive side, my bare feet will make it easy to move quietly.

For now I enjoy ham stuffed into bread rolls and the grapes offer me some relief from thirst.

I drift into a better sleep than last night, still not deep and I am woken by the sound of rain. Rain!

I jump up and stick the funnel in the neck of one of my water canteens from the backpack. I hold it out outside of my canvas roof to collect the rainwater. It fills up fast.

I get the bottle straight to my lips before I hesitate. Even though it's rainwater, I should probably still drop some Iodine in to sterilise any potential germs. It is Gamemaker-made after all.

I drop in the right amount and then wait the allotted time. While I am waiting I hold out the funnel in the other bottle, filling that one up too.

When it's time, I drink the whole bottle in one go. My dehydrated stomach protests and I get cramps but they soon pass and I refill the bottle, put in more Iodine and then put the cap back on. I now have four litres of water to last me until the next time it rains. It seems to only rain at night so I guess tomorrow night will be the next opportunity but I don't want to take it for granted.

I get in a few hours sleep before I wake up and see the peak of the sun coming up through the leaves. It's time to leave my little tree house and I feel a little sad. I'm sure it'll be a lovely place to visit when they turn the arena into a holiday resort in a few months.

I take down my canopy and fold it into one of the backpacks along with the bottles of water (one now half empty after breakfast), half a packet of dried meat, three bread rolls and some ham. I transfer all the other items from the other backpack into the one I intend to take with me.

I hear movement at the Cornucopia and am forced to say my final farewell to my nest. I drop to the ground and head deep into the forest.

I try to loop around a few times to confuse my tracks but I spend all day hiking as far away from the clearing as possible.

My abundance of water and knowledge that I have food for now buoys my spirits and I enjoy seeing the different types of trees this forest has to offer. All the way around the Cornucopia were twisted elm trees. Here there are pines, needles on the ground, a familiar smell in the air. I also know that if there are pines then I needn't go hungry. Father showed me that if you strip the hard bark away, the soft stuff on the inside could be chewed as an alternative snack.

The sun moves across the sky as I walk and I have neither sight nor sound of other human life. That is until someone barrels out of a clump of bushes to my right and knocks me over. Whoever it is they are little and does no more than wind me in the fall. It is only when I sit up that I feel slightly more concerned to see that she wields a little knife.

It's the little girl from District 11. She looks ill. Sallow eyes and rasping breath, I'm guessing she hasn't had any water for nearly three days.

She raises her knife and hisses at me, like a feral animal. She lunges for me, murder in her eyes, but she is slow and weak. I bat her away quite easily and try to walk away, leave her to die on her own, poor little thing. Next thing I feel is a sharp pain in my right shoulder. She has thrown the knife and it's grazed me. Right, now I have to stop her. I bring my elbow sharply into contact with her face. Something cracks and when she backs away blood is dripping down her face.

She sticks her tongue out and manically licks up the blood. She comes at me again like a rage driven zombie. I kick her over this time and pin her down. I'm not only bigger than her but I'm fully hydrated and had a good meal this morning, she struggles but has no chance at breaking away from my grasp.

She's spitting blood at me now, her head balking, her legs writhing. She tries to throw me off but I sit tight. Then she tries reaching up to my throat.

"Well if it's like that," I murmur to myself and put my own hand to her throat and squeeze. She fights like a dog then, trying to throw me off her, her head banging back and forth on the ground. Then something else cracks and her eyes roll to the back of her head. A cannon sounds. I don't know if I've killed her, or if she's cracked her head open on the ground. I don't like to move her now.

"Rye?" comes a panicked call. It's her District partner, the sad-faced boy. He crashes through the bushes and stops when he sees me sat on her chest. "Rye!" He calls again, distress evident on his face. He sees her knife on the floor and reaches for it.

"Woah woah!" I shout as I too dive for the knife.

We wrestle over it for a minute, he is pretty weak as well, and I quickly overpower him. My heart beating like a jackhammer I bring the knife down frantically, hoping that each time I do, it connects with something important. When he drops to the floor, I go with him, still stabbing hysterically.

By the time I hear the cannon, I'm covered in his blood. I stand back. I've ruined him. He's in bits everywhere; some of it is even in my loose hair. Air comes out of my mouth in a funny sound, almost a yelp. What have I done?

It was all very well saying that I hated these people and wanted to kill them but I've just murdered two people. I've got bits of them on me. Could I do this another 8 times? No not 8, 7 I won't kill Red.

I think if I stop, I might not move again. If I rest I'll have to think about what I've just done. If I sleep, I'll have nightmares. I need to keep going. I need to do exactly what I've just done; I need to react to the situation. I need to hunt down the rest of the Tributes and end this game with as little thought as possible.

My backpack slipped off when Rye tackled me so I search for it and just about find it in the approaching darkness. If it hadn't been neon coloured I wouldn't have found it.

As I bend down to pick it up, my hair falls in my face and leaves a wet sensation on my chin and lips. The boy's blood.

I freak out, spitting it away and batting at my own face. I run my fingers through my hair but this means that the blood on my hands is now streaked through my hair. I moan and waste 2 litres of my water trying to wash it out. I still don't feel clean. I feel like the boy, Kernel I think his name was, is pulling on my hair, my lovely long hair, my princess hair. I'm not a princess now. I'm a blood-soaked monster. What will my Father think?

Without even pausing for thought I gather my hair in a ponytail in one hand, grab the knife with my other hand and saw brutally through my own hair. When my ponytail is cut loose I don't stop. I then take handfuls of hair and slice through that too.

I don't feel clean, I don't feel like a princess, I don't deserve to be a princess. I am something new now.

In a daze I drag my backpack behind me, knife in hand poised, in case I get jumped again.

I must look crazy, covered in blood stalking through the woods as night falls. I don't care. I have to finish it now, after what I've done, I better win.

I am not myself anymore, I am something else.


	21. Rampage

**A/N This chapter is dedicated to my lovely reviewers who never fail to cheer me up. A Red/Johanna scene for you **

**Chapter Twenty-One- Rampage**

I don't know how long I wander for, but the sky is black as coal by the time I come back to my senses. The District 11 blood still on my hands, and arms, and down my front, I hear voices not far ahead and I know that whoever it is, I have to take them out while I'm still in this state of mind.

I know that at home the screen will be filled with my face and the word 'Rampage' will be in the corner. Claudius Templesmith and whoever his guest commentator is today will be discussing every move I make now.

I slide through the forest like a predator, my bare feet making little to no sound. I get closer to the voices and recognise them. I duck into a bush and watch them.

It's Red and Mary. She's looking bad, propped up against a tree, surrounded by silver parachutes. Obviously the District 4 Mentors have thrown every bit of sponsorship money at her to get her back to full strength but it doesn't appear to have worked.

Red is trying to coax her into drinking some water from a canteen and she's refusing.

"I'm dying Red, don't waste the water on me, you don't know when it's going to rain again. Save it for yourself."

I know he won't.

"I won't Mary, just drink it. I can last."

Another silver parachute drifts down from the black sky and Red catches it deftly in one hand.

"More medicine?" she asks.

"Water," Red chuckles. "Now there's no reason for you to argue, just drink it."

She gives a pained smile and gives in, letting him tilt the water bottle to her lips.

She coughs. "Thanks."

"Better?" he frowns, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll do the first watch. Go to sleep. I'm fine now."

"I don't believe you."

Just as I told him on the rooftop, he's far too good for this game. He could easily win, joined the Careers, and killed them in their sleep. Instead his Game has been spent taking care of a girl who should have died the first afternoon of blood loss.

My heart aches for their situation. She will die; no amount of magic creams and lotions will save that leg. The wound is red and inflamed, except for the seeping yellow pus. The only hope she has is if a hovercraft picks her up right now and takes her to a Capitol hospital, which it won't. Red can't admit this, he can't end her suffering.

I can.

The audience will be waiting to see what I do. Will I charge in and slaughter this poor, unfortunate couple? They all think I'm a monster now. Maybe I am, maybe I will be when this is all finished, but killing Mary, no matter how mercifully I do it, will hurt Red. I can't hurt Red.

As I sit there in the bush, formulating a plan, Mary drifts off to sleep. Red covers her with an extra blanket and finds his own tree to sit against, keeping watch.

They can't have cameras everywhere. There is a thick weeping willow not far from their camp; I reckon there are no cameras that can see in there. When I finally wriggle back to my feet, I slip around the perimeter of the camp noiselessly to check it out. It is very dark beneath the willow vines. I can hardly see my own hand in front of my face, so I use my hands to check the trunk of the tree for hidey-holes that could have cameras stuffed into them. None. Good.

Phase Two of my plan. I silently climb a tree nearby and use the density of the woodland to swing from one branch to the next, one tree to the next, until I'm in the tree right above Red.

There's a rustle of leaves as I crouch, ready to leap.

He looks up at the sound and I throw myself right down on top of him.

We both hit the floor with a joint 'oof'.

Red is up first, in a fighting stance. His curved sword and Mary's mace are next to her but he falters in reaching for them.

"Johanna?" It's dark but he knows it's me, even with my new haircut.

"Told you I'd fall on you from a tree."

"Thought you were joking but ok." He rubs his shoulder. "How's the Game going, we've been out of the loop." He nods at the still sleeping Mary.

"It just got interesting," I say before socking him right in the chiselled jaw.

He grunts and holds his face, which is now an awful picture of surprise and betrayal.

"What are you doing? Why?" He fends off another of my swipes.

"I told you that I'd kill you," I sneer. "Remember my promise on the roof?"

Please remember, I beg. Please remember that I promised _not_ to kill you.

"I…I do." He looks confused. He does remember my promise, but still doesn't know what I'm trying to do.

I punch out again and he steps back again. We do a little dance as I drive him towards the willow tree. My eyes flick to the tree and finally he gets it, and turns to run into its branches. I follow and for the audience, flick my new knife out of my pocket as I disappear from their screens.

I can just about make out Red's shape in the dark but he doesn't come near me. I don't blame him.

"I promised," I whisper.

He edges towards me.

"Then tell me what's going on," he replies echoing my whisper.

I reach down and grab one of the pockets in my combat pants and tear it clean off, taking a square of the pants leg with it too.

"Come here," I say and as soon as he is in reaching distance, I grab him by the collar and crush our lips together. He holds me tightly, like he did on the roof terrace.

I end the embrace by reaching up and digging my nails into the side of his face.

"Ow!" he exclaims.

"We're fighting remember? We need to come out of here looking like it," and I nod to the other side of the willow vines and grab him again. "Hit me."

"No," he hisses, pushing me away.

I plant an elbow into his gut and he doubles over.

"Hit me!" I insist.

He does, right across the left cheek. It's powerful too and I'm thrown to the floor. I moan exaggeratedly, hoping the cameras will get bored of filming a groaning tree soon and find someone else more interesting. Our trackers will tell the Gamemakers if one of us is dying so they'll be able to flick back to us when it gets exciting.

I've bitten my cheek in the fall so I spit blood on the floor.

Red immediately starts for me and reaches for my hand. I take it and he yanks me into his arms again.

"I'm sorry," he breathes into my ear.

"Don't worry about it, I started it," I reply into his. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, a little thirsty, but ok. Glad to see you." He squeezes me tightly again. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," I say grimacing. "I'm on a rampage."

"What?" He pulls back to look into my eyes.

I nod. "Didn't you hear the cannons?"

"That was you?" I nod again. "Both of them?"

"I think the Capitol will agree that I've been drastically underestimated," I try to smile.

"But why Johanna?" His handsome face looks worn, tired, and worse, disappointed. I can't stand him looking at me like that. I put my hands on either side of his face and force him to look into my eyes as I tell him,

"Because I want to go home Red, because I'm not the pathetic piece of fodder everyone thinks I am, because I want to teach them all a lesson."

For the first time during this whole horrendous ordeal, my eyes fill with tears. Don't let them see you cry, my uncle had said. To be fair, no one could see me, no one but Red.

The tears spill out down my cheeks and I turn away to wipe my face with my sleeve.

"Why did you come here then Johanna?" he asks gently. "To kill me and Mary?"

"No, I promised you."

"But you didn't promise Mary…"

"She's dying anyway Red."

"She's not some runt in a pack that you put down because it's the 'kindest thing to do'!" He bursts. "She's strong."

I turn back to look at him. He's shrunk down into a squat, fingering patterns into the dust. I kneel down in front of him and take his hands in mine.

"I know, I know. But she's really hurt, and she's not going to get better. It doesn't matter how many parachutes Finnick Odair throws at you, she's not living, she's just surviving."

"I can't leave her Johanna, not after what she's done for me, how much she's helped me." Now he has tears in his eyes and he sits back. "I can't let her die."

"I can," I say, vocalising my own thought from earlier. "We've been fighting in here, I chase you out, see Mary. I'll do it quickly. She won't even wake-up I promise."

"No, no." He shakes his head, he needs a little more encouragement so I straddle his lap and kiss his forehead softly.

"If you stay here with her, the Careers will come through and kill you both. If you let me help you, you can be out of here and stand a chance."

I can see him start to relent; he tilts his head and kisses my lips again.

"Will you do me a favour though?" he breathes. I nod and he whispers into my ear what he wants.

"I will."

We kiss a couple more times before we hear the rain start again above us.

"Go now," I say. "The rain on the leaves will mask the sound of your movement."

"Will you find me after you…" he trails off.

"No," I say firmly. "You can't go from one damsel in distress to another. We're better off alone."

"You sound just like my uncle," he says with a smile and strokes my cheek. "If you do win, you two should hang out, I think you'd get on. He's only a few years older than me because my Mom's his way older sister. I'm the good-looking one in the family though."

"I don't doubt it," I grin. "Now get out of here." I push his chest just like on the rooftop before the Game began.

Before he goes, he holds me again. This time there's a desperation between the two of us. We know that we won't see each other again.

"It's a real shame that this is how we had to meet Johanna Mason. I could have really taken a shine to you."

"No you wouldn't have. You would have stayed in District 4, married a mermaid and been happy bringing up your part human, part fish children," I say with a smile. "And I would have stayed in District 7, married a guy that I thought was beneath me and spent the rest of my life belittling him and making both our lives miserable."

"Well you've got to have a dream," he laughs. "Maybe when you win you can move to District 4 and find a good hearty fisherman to teach you what's what."

"Maybe." I hold up my knife. "Remember we've been fighting."

He kisses me one more time, takes the knife and cuts into his bicep.

"Nice aim," he says to me as he gives the knife back. He then holds his other shoulder, like it's been dislocated and limps out into the rain. It's almost torrential and he's soaked within seconds. He turns back to pick up the mace and a pink backpack of his own but doesn't look at Mary who is still asleep, sheltered by the tree she is under.

I take a deep breath, grab my bag and go out into the rain. I try to look as though I am following him but I 'see' Mary.

When I get closer to her I see just how bad she is. She's pale and I can smell her wound. I don't know how Red has managed to live with it.

I realise that the knife I have is not big enough to do the job that I promised. Uncle Fern always used a big knife on the animals in the butchers. One fast cut with a big knife becomes several lingering cuts with a smaller knife. Now I see why Red took the mace and not his knife.

My feet are starting to squelch in the mud but I push through and pick up the knife. I kneel down next to Mary and push her hair back from her neck, placing the knife under her left ear at her throat.

Her eyes flutter open and a seizure of fear and guilt rushes through my veins but her eyes aren't accusatory or angry, they seem soft.

"Thank you," she breathes and before I can second-guess myself I sharply bring the knife around to her right ear. I'd sunk it deep so hopefully she hadn't felt anything. I prop her forward though so that if I have made a mess of it she doesn't die choking on her own blood. I don't hear a sound from her and her cannon fires quickly. After a couple of minutes I do as Red asked. I lay her on her back and search through her pockets for her token. It's a shell from the beach near her house. Red has an identical one. I put it to her lifeless lips and then place it on her brow, between her eyes, a death ritual from District 4.

"Be at peace," I whisper to her and move on quickly. Don't want the nation to think I've gone soft.

Before I've taken five steps I hear the sound of weapons clashing not far away.

Oh no. Red.


	22. Weren't We Fighting?

**Chapter Twenty-Two- Weren't We Fighting?**

I've never run so fast in my life, not even when the gong sounded at the Cornucopia three days ago.

I've got the large knife in one hand and the smaller one in the other. I crash through the bushes not caring if I'm making an awful noise. I didn't go through all this to give him a chance of surviving, only for him to be attacked as soon as he turns the corner.

A cannon.

He's a big boy I think, he'll be ok. Don't go crashing in without thinking. But I ignore my own sense and burst through the trees to see him pulling the mace out of a boy's head.

"Didn't mean to see you again so soon," he says, wiping his brow. He's got a gash on his forehead that is trickling down his face, a mixture of rain and blood.

"You forgot this anyway," I throw the curved knife to his feet.

"Swap?" He tosses the mace to me and I catch it deftly. "Quite an hour it's been."

"I'd say both our odds have probably increased excellently." I nod.

We don't get to close, we had our moment in the willow tree, and both of us are aware of the cameras surrounding us now.

The anthem starts to play and he turns skyward. I don't need to; I know who 'The Fallen' of today are.

Mary.

The Boy from 5, whose battered body still lies next to Red.

Kernel.

Rye.

I don't need to see their faces again; I'm going to see them in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

I'm staring over Red's shoulder to avoid the faces of the dead, and that's how I manage to push him out of the way of the gold arrow. It strikes the tree behind us and is embedded almost to the hilt.

Before my eyes can even pick out her silhouette, Red has flung his curved knife towards Amethyst and we hear her scream.

"Is she down?" I cry, still searching for her shape in the dark.

"No, if my aim was right she wouldn't have screamed." He grits his teeth.

"You think you could hit her with my small knife?" But before I can offer it up, there's a whistling sound and Red grunts.

One of the gold arrows has pierced his right shoulder.

"Get down and get out of here," I yell at him, trying to push him away.

He stands firm, pulling the arrow out of his flesh without so much as a wince.

I see a movement between the trees, it's enough and I run towards it, mace swinging. It's not exactly balanced like an axe but I give it a heave as soon as I feel close enough and it flies through the air. I hear it hit and hear the thud as a body falls to the floor.

Red is by my side in a second.

"She's not dead," he says in a low voice.

Amethyst is lying on her back, gasping soundlessly. The mace has hit her square in the chest. I almost feel sorry for her, this girl who didn't want to get blood on her, this girl who fell so easily for Absalom's 'charms'.

Speaking of which, where is Lover Boy?

Amethyst gives an audible moan and then her chest sinks. Her cannon fires.

"One Career down," I whisper.

"Two," Red replies and immediately I regret my words. I'd forgotten about Mary already.

"Sorry."

"It's ok, she's escaped. She's the lucky one."

I turn to give his hand a squeeze but he's not next to me anymore, he's on the ground.

"Red? What's the matter?"

He's holding his side, curled up in the foetal position.

I fall to my knees next to him.

"What's happened? Red!" I force one of his arms away from him and see blood, a lot of blood.

"Something hit me," he grunts through gritted teeth.

"Let me see," but he won't untangle both his arms at once.

A lazy voice calls over the sound of the rain,

"Wonder what the sponsors will send him to hold his intestines in."

Absalom.

A reflection of the moon catches my eye on the ground. It's the axe. Oh crap, if Red's taken an axe to the gut, there's no coming back. I should have heard his cannon fire already. It must be at least loaded.

I call Abe every foul name under the sun but he doesn't even balk.

"Not the sort of language I'd have expected from you Johanna but I can't say I'm very surprised. You've been busy haven't you? Making friends…" he cocks an eyebrow at Red.

"Likewise," and I nod at Amethyst's body.

He cranes his head and then shrugs.

"Unfortunate."

My blood boils, I've never ever _ever_ been so furious in my entire life.

"Well you know what else is unfortunate?" I spit.

"What's that?"

"Now I have the axe, asshole." I seize the wooden handle and leap to my feet.

Finally, looking worried, he starts to back up.

"Why so frightened Abe?" I swing the axe around, over and under my arm. "You're not afraid of little old me are you?"

He must have suspected that I had some secret skill but he clearly never thought it was the axe; otherwise he'd never have thrown it towards me. Now his eyes are bulging out of his head.

I laugh, almost hysterically.

Absalom, still backing away and stumbling over roots, points a finger at me.

"I'll be seeing you." Then he turns and runs.

I almost start to give chase but then I remember Red. I run back to him.

"Can you get up?"

He shakes his head, his breathing a lot more laboured than it was.

"Then you need to let me look at it."

He's weak and his will is fading. I move his arms away from his side.

Well there are no parts of him hanging out, so Abe isn't as handy with the axe as he thinks, but he is bleeding to death.

I take off my jacket and use it in an attempt to stem the blood. I open my bag with my spare hand and pass Red my water bottle.

"Here, replace some fluids."

He shakes his head again.

"Look do I have to remind you as well that I have the axe so you'll be doing what I say!" I exclaim.

A quick smile flickers across his lips before it's replaced by another wince of pain.

I press the jacket against him harder and this time he cries out.

"Water now," I insist and push the bottle into his hands.

He brings it to his lips but it appears to be the heaviest thing he's ever had to lift. He took an arrow to the shoulder and didn't even flinch, but it obviously did hurt him.

"I'm full of holes," he says quietly and his eyes flick up to the gash on his forehead. "Be ready when I swallow in case it all comes out like a leaky bucket."

Now it's my turn to smile.

"Bracing myself."

He drinks but not for long.

He looks tired, his eyes are drooping and my heart thunders in my chest.

"Don't fall asleep," I murmur, brushing dripping wet hair off his forehead. It falls straight back again so I keep stroking it back.

"I thought we were fighting?" he croaks.

"You were very charming," I reply, carefully watching him for any signs of deterioration. I don't care if the cameras are on us now. I don't care if the entire of Panem is confused about our change in relationship, wondering why I was after his blood only an hour ago but so distressed to have it on my hands now. I don't care if I'm in trouble for leading everyone on a merry dance. I care that the kindest, gentlest, best person I've ever met is dying. If only I had spon—.

"Send him something!" I call to the sky. Why haven't we had any parachutes from his Mentors? Had they spent all the money on Mary? Surely Finnick Odair would have no problems refreshing the account?

"He won't," Red breathes. "I told him not to. If it looks bad, I don't want to be—" He sucks in a pained breath.

"You're an idiot Red. You'll stay with Mary to help her but don't want anyone to help you!"

"Yeah, I know. You sound so much like my uncle, did I mention that?" His eyes flicker closed.

"Red! Don't go to sleep!" I press hard against his wound and he starts awake again with a groan.

"Ow!"

"I said don't fall asleep! If you sleep you might not wake up. Tell me about your uncle. Do you live with him?"

"Yeah, me and my Mom. My Dad was caught in a storm on his boat and he never came back. We have a big white panelled house, all because of my uncle. I guess I really look up to him. He really did my Mom and I a favour taking us in. She'd have just been another Ocean Widow."

A seizure of coughing overcomes him.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have made you talk so much." I offer him the water again, but once again he declines. This time I don't fight it. The jacket in my hand is saturated.

"I'm going to have to sleep soon," he murmurs, eyelids wilting. "My uncle's going to be so disappointed."

"No, no he won't," I go back to stroking his hair. "You're a credit to your District, and your family Red."

"He'll be watching now calling me a 'dumb squirt' for turning down help." He struggles to smile. It becomes a grimace.

"Well you are a dumb squirt," I agree.

"Promise me you'll go to him…when you win."

"I will."

"Make sure he's ok. He'll pretend that he's fine, but he hides things that he cares about. He's hidden me before."

I frown, not sure what he means but I nod anyway.

"Sure. I'll find him."

His eyes finally close but I don't try to force him to open them again.

"Weren't we fighting?" he murmurs, repeating his words.

I repeat my answer, "You were too charming dear."

"Did I ask you to marry me?"

I don't know what to do except play along.

"Yeah, you did."

"Thought so." This time the smile reaches all the way across his lips before he falls limp and the light leaves his face.

It's only as he lays there, dead, and I really look at him that I realise how perfect he is…was. I also realise that I won't have to find his uncle, he is sure to come to me. We will share a sorrow he and I.


	23. The Winner

**Chapter Twenty-Three- The Winner**

I do the same for Red as I did for Mary. I find his shell and press it to his lips before placing it between his eyes. I have to leave in order for him…I mean his body to be collected by the hovercraft and taken back to District 4. It's the hardest few steps I've ever made, harder even than the ones up to the stage at the Reaping. I don't cry though.

I don't take my eyes off him until I have to to avoid tripping. As well as the axe in my hand, I've got the mace and the small knife in my backpack, and the gold bow over my shoulder. I'm no good at archery but it can't hurt to have it with me. I leave the curved knife with him.

I trek downhill, no real plan of where to go. The rain peters out before I do. I kick myself when I realise I've not collected any water for the next day. I wasted water washing blood off me because I was cocky and assumed that I'd get some more later. Well later has been and gone and I haven't got any. I've got a rough day ahead of me now.

After the initial annoyance I settle into a walking rhythm and realise that I don't actually care that I don't have any water. One step, two step. One step, two step. I just wander, not taking any account of what direction I'm going in. My thoughts are all elsewhere.

At sunrise I see a hovercraft flying away. Surely they haven't taken this long to collect Red's body? Then I remember the boy from 5 and Amethyst, it's a full one that hovercraft.

At around 10am a muttation attacks me. It's a rabbit with the teeth and speed of a predator. It's clearly a pack animal though because I easily defeat it with my axe. I'm not too eager to run into the rest of its family so I break into a run in the opposite direction.

I don't stop until late afternoon when hunger and fatigue finally conquer me. I find a nice easy tree and climb it. I eat two bread rolls, finish what remains of my water and fall asleep, clinging to my pinecone, which I'd rescued from my blood-soaked jacket before I ditched it.

I am woken long after nightfall by the sound of the Capitol anthem again. The first face I see is of course Amethyst.

The second is a heart-wrenching image of Red.

That's it. There's been no other action today.

I've got to say a part of me had been hoping to hear that Granite and Chantal had brutally killed Absalom while I was sleeping. No such luck.

Tomorrow I will have more of a purpose. Tomorrow I will start wrapping up this game. Five Tributes left after four days, shouldn't be too hard to knock the last four out in a day.

Turns out it is. I collect water when it rains at night but when I don't see another human being for two days I start worrying about my food supply. I've only been eating one meal a day but I'm down to one slither of ham and half a bread roll. I'm going to have to try heading back to the Cornucopia.

On the second night of no human contact it doesn't rain. The Gamemakers are starting to starve us out. We'll all be thirsty, if not hungry, and heading to the gold horn with all the supplies.

On the seventh day, as I'm heading up hill in the direction I believe the clearing to be I hear a cannon not far away. There were no preceding sounds of battle so I can only assume whoever it is has given up the ghost, so to speak. That night the death roll tells me it was the girl from District 9.

On the eighth day I hear voices coming from ahead so I move swiftly and silently among the trees with the bow in my hands. There's almost zero chance I'll actually hit anyone with it but it should be enough to distract him or her before I use the axe. I spend half the morning with the bow cocked creeping through the foliage before I discover that the sounds I'm following are just echoes off the valley that plunges down beyond the trees. I must have reached the edge of the arena.

On the ninth day the muttations are back, and they mean business. I know what's happening. The Gamemakers must see how useless I am at navigating and are trying to drive me towards the other Tributes. I let them. One of the mutts manages to take a bite out of my ankle before I hack it in half but it slows me down some. When they finally get me on track they disappear and I take a 'lunch break' tearing strips off my pants to wrap around my bleeding ankle. There is no lunch on my lunch break.

Eventually I start seeing familiar landmarks. There's the log I sat on to eat my lunch after I'd left my tree house. I must be coming close now. Still no sight of any other Tributes though which makes me weary. They must be around; there's been no water for nearly 3 days now. They should be combing the gold horn for food with high water content…unless they're waiting for me. It seems unlikely that Abe wouldn't have run back to his 'friends' to come and hunt me down.

Once more I am glad that I'm barefoot, although my bad ankle means I'm not as quiet as I could be. I take the long way around in case they are laying in wait anyway. I pass my old nest and see that the Careers have found it and pretty much torn it down. I don't feel sad, I'm way past emotions now. Anger even left me three days ago, I just want to go home. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty and I'm limping. I want to go back to my bed and sleep for a week and then I want my Mother to bring me plate upon plate of her awfully burnt beef jerky.

My mouth starts watering at just the thought of that disgustingly charred meat and I almost chuckle to myself, except that I hear another noise. It was only quiet, could have been the wind in the trees, only I can't feel any breeze.

Quick as a flash I whip the bow off my shoulder, slip a gold arrow into place and fire it straight up into the tree.

The tree cries out in surprise.

"Granite! Now!"

I hear the grate of a sword being pulled out of its sheath behind me. It's his first mistake because he doesn't have his sword ready and the axe is already in my hand. I wheel around and swing at whatever I can. I just clip his ear but he doesn't react. I spin, missing his lunge by a whisker.

Behind me the ground thuds as Chantal lands from the tree. They drive me backwards until my back hits a tree and they bear in on me. Granite lunges again, swinging his sword towards my head, I duck and dodge around the tree, bringing the axe around with me. It connects with Granite's hand and a few of his fingers peel away. This time he yells.

Chantal throws me to the ground and is on me, a small knife, the partner of mine, in her hand. She stabs at my chest but I wriggle and it pierces my shoulder blade instead.

This is ridiculous, I have a small arsenal in my bag but it's crushed under me right now. I can't use the axe under such close proximity. I don't know what to do!

Help comes from an unexpected source.

Granite kicks me in the face with such force that it throws Chantal off me.

I roll and get up as quick as I can. My nose has spewed blood all down my face and I am reminded of the little girl from District 11. I try to wipe it away with my sleeve but my nose screams in protest. I feel like I might be sick with the pain. I drop to my knees again, retching and Granite and Chantal stand over me laughing.

Jokes on you assholes, I think and hack at both their legs in one swing with the axe. They both go down. Both of Chantal's legs are separated from her body, only one of Granite's is still attached, tentatively.

Chantal is screaming, grabbing at her stumps. No hesitation, I finish her execution.

Granite is a little more dignified, looks up at me and bows his head. Then it rolls off.

Two cannons fire.

"Just you and me now!" I scream into the woods. I know Absalom is around. He would have tipped off the Careers that I'd be coming this way, set himself up somewhere with a prime view of the action and waited to watch them kill me. Sucks to be him because now he has to face me one-on-one. If he'd joined the District 2 pair I would have been overrun and wouldn't have stood a chance.

My mouth tastes of blood, it feels like some of my teeth are loose too from the kick. I need food and I need water. The Cornucopia will set me for food, assuming the Careers have left anything. Water on the other hand will be tricky. I limp towards the shining gold horn when I hear the Capitol anthem again. Dazed, I can't make out what's happening. It's daytime. It can't be the death roll already.

Claudius Templesmith's voice calls out. There's going to be a feast at the Cornucopia. At sunrise tomorrow. But I'm already at the Cornucopia. Why isn't it now? Why can't it be now? I need food and water now!

Abe.

He's making a break for it. He's seen how injured I am and decided to run for it, hoping he can outlive me. He knows he can't outfight me. The Gamemakers are forcing him to turn right back around and face me like a man. I smile. One of my teeth comes out. Lovely.

Feeling safe that I can pick through the leftover supplies without Absalom interrupting me, I slowly poke my way through what the Careers have left behind.

There's an awful smell. A lot of the food has gone off, damn it. There are some brown, mushy apples and rank meat, rock hard bread, and not a lot else. I try to break open the bread but it's very difficult with my injured shoulder and I daren't use my broken teeth. Looks like I'll have to wait until sunrise.

I find a backpack by the remains of the Career's campfire and there's a little water in one of the canteens. It's gone in two gulps, but that's two more gulps than Abe will have had.

I settle down with a canvas square as a blanket with my back against the Cornucopia so Abe can't creep up on me from behind in the night. I flutter in and out of sleep, no rain to wake me but dozens of nightmares of spitting teeth and bloody stumps.

When the sun starts poking it's head up, it hits the gold horn and reflects right into my eyes. I've slept longer that I meant to. In a panic I jump up, as fast as my ankle will allow me. There is no sign of a feast, have I missed it?

Just as I'm looking around in despair I hear a whirring mechanical noise and a long dining table appears in front of the Cornucopia from the ground. On it is gallons and gallons of water, in big jugs, in wine glasses, in champagne flutes, in bowls, in ice sculptures. It's beautiful. Without even a cursory look for Abe I throw down a jug and three glasses of the glorious sweet liquid. I can feel it travelling through my body rehydrating all my muscles, refilling all the empty blood vessels.

Out of the corner of my eye I see movement.

"Care to join me?" I croak.

He looks bad. I'd say it wasn't just the feast that drove him back here; he must have bumped into my bunny rabbit friends. His pants are in bits from the knees down and his has scratches all down his neck and torso. As he gets closer I see that he's desperate for water too.

I hold out my hands towards the table, inviting him to drink.

Abe runs to the table and throws down five glasses of water without even a breath. As he picks up his sixth glass his hand twitches and it feels like something has bit my middle. I look down and see another small knife sticking in me at a 90-degree angle.

"You!" I seethe.

"I'm going to win Johanna," Abe says, his voice still catching dry in his throat.

"Don't count on it." I wrench the knife out. It is covered in my blood up to the hilt. I throw it back at him. It misses and flies down the clearing, well out of sight, damn!

The axe is still at my camp with my bag around the corner. There's only one way for me to finish this.

I leap on him, the glass still in his hand smashes. I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze for all I'm worth.

My top is getting wet and sticky from the wound in my gut but I ignore it. Abe is weak and doesn't fight very hard. He goes limp in my hands quite quickly. Too quickly. There is no announcement to say that I have won. No cannon. Is he trying to bluff me? To be sure, I keep a hold of him while sitting on his chest. After less than a minute he flops back to life again and really starts fighting. The scumbag was playing dead. I knew it!

I reach up to the table with one hand and grab one of the heavy jugs. I smash it down on his face, still holding his throat with one hand.

His eyes bulge and my arms ache but I don't give up until I finally hear his cannon.

Boom.

The sound of applause follows the cannon and fills the clearing as Claudius Templesmith announces:

"I give you the winner of the 71st Annual Hunger Games, Johanna Mason of District 7!"


	24. Perfect

**Chapter Twenty-Four- Perfect**

I'm exhausted, sick with hunger and rapidly losing blood from my gut so I barely believe that it's true. Did I win? Is it over? Can I go home? I take a look around me, the applause still ringing in my ears. It's starting to seem like a hazy dream: The blood dripping from my blouse, Red's blood up my arms, Kernel's blood up my fingernails, Abe's body at my feet. It all seems like the stuff of nightmares. But it felt so real before, in this clearing before the applause sounded.

A hovercraft appears in the sky and I watch a ladder descend to pick me up. As soon as I touch it my whole body freezes and I am brought back up into the belly of civilisation.

In the hovercraft, a woman I hadn't seen immediately sticks me with a needle. I hiss a swear word at her before my eyelids stick together and my muscles go limp.

I have flashes of dreams: my pinecone held in my bloody hand, the view of the Cornucopia from my lookout branch, the muttation that took a chunk out of my ankle, Annie Cresta being lifted out of the arena last year, Granite's head bowed, Little Joey crawling through pine needles, my own bare feet, a daisy, Red looking at the stars on the roof of the Training Tower, Red poking the dust under the willow tree, Red in his chariot at the Tribute Parade, Red dead, Finnick Odair at the door to the roof terrace.

My hearing wakes up first and I can hear constant movement around me, there's always someone there.

There's an awful antibacterial smell when my nose starts working again. Then I realise my nose is working again! I hadn't been able to breathe through it since Granite sandwiched it between my own face and his boot. I can smell again! I can breathe again!

When feeling returns I can open my eyes a squint. Through my eyelashes I can see drip lines feeding into me, I see nurses, I feel itchy all over.

Eventually when I am able to completely open my eyes the first person I see is…

The Escort.

"Why are you here?" I whisper, trying to scowl but I don't think my face is moving. It's a struggle to move my lips too.

"It's lovely to see you too Johanna. You're looking much better."

"Thanks."

"It's amazing what a body polish and a bit of surgical tweaking can do."

"Surgical tweaking?" I'm so tired of her.

"Yes, you were awfully skinny so I put in a request to perk you up a bit so to speak. Gaia's going to have to take out the chest on your Victor Interview dress." She makes a rounding gesture above her own chest.

"What?" Panicking I try to look down but my neck hasn't woken up yet. "What have you done to me?"

"Can we get her propped up so she can see the transformation?" The Escort tweets to a nearby nurse.

My bed rises up at my head and immediately I am assaulted with the sight of my own breasts.

"Much more womanly, don't you think?" The Escort and the nurse nod fiercely.

"I'm 16 years old!" I cry.

"And a little underdeveloped if you don't mind me saying," the nurse adds.

"Get them out of me!" I bellow.

The Escort ignores me and addresses the nurse. "Of course I had envisioned them bigger but Blight stepped in and said that we didn't want her to go in looking like a virgin and come out looking like a prostitute, but I wanted some sort of maturity to come out of the whole ordeal."

Whole ordeal! What ordeal had she been through exactly? And since when did 'maturity' mean massive boobs?

I realise that I am the new me now so I don't have to keep my grievances to myself anymore. I scream at the two of them.

More nurses run in and another needle sends me back off to Sleepyland, but not before I snap,

"What will be bigger when I wake up next time?"

When I wake up the second time I am no longer in the hospital ward. I'm in my old room at the Training Center. My back protests when I try to sit up but I battle through it and, groaning, I make it to a mirror.

My nose is different. Straighter than it used to be, which is no bad thing but I don't feel like it's mine.

I guess my chest isn't _that_ big. They're bigger than they were but no bigger than any other girl's my age. I've put on weight as well, I don't know if that's from the drips or if there's been more 'surgical tweaking'. It's a horrible thing to look at oneself and not know what is original. There's no mark anywhere on me. I am 'perfect'.

When I open my wardrobe to find something clean to wear I see a suit bag hanging with a note on it.

'Put this on. It's your dress for the Game Highlights tonight. Your Prep Team will be along before midday. Gaia.'

The clock on the bedside table says 10:13am. I climb back into bed, determined to stay there with the blankets over my head. I don't want to go to the Game Highlights. I don't want to see everything happen all over again. I don't want to relive my 'finest moments' and I don't want the world to see me, buffed and polished like it was all made-up.

The Prep Team arrive at 11:30 and burst into my room without knocking.

"Ohh she's still in bed!"

"Gaia said she was due to wake up this morning."

"Go away!" I call to them from under the blanket. "I'm not going tonight."

"Ohh she's nervous! Don't worry honey, we'll make you all pretty. Oberon has just passed his tattooist qualification too so we could even give you some body art! Isn't that exciting!"

"I've brought my kit with me!"

They all squeal with excitement.

"I'm NOT having tattoos, I'm NOT getting out of bed and I'm NOT going tonight!" I scream at them.

Another voice joins us.

"Something the matter Johanna?" It's Blight.

"She says she's not going," one of the Prep Team says.

"Could you give us a minute please guys?"

They all leave Blight with me and shut the door.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Crappy, inflated."

"I'm sorry about that, I talked them down if that's any consolation."

"It's not."

"Either way, you need to get up and start getting ready." I feel him sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Why should I?" I sound like a brat but I don't care. I am a petulant teenager after all.

"Because if you don't then your family will suffer."

My heart stops.

"What?"

"I'm afraid being a Victor is not all it's cracked up to be. The Capitol owns you now Johanna. You're a celebrity and are expected to make appearances as well as keep them up. The audience want to see a strong, confident young woman who has overcome adversity for the honour of her District. If that doesn't happen then… lets say a lot of accidents have happened to the families of Victors. President Snow doesn't like to be embarrassed Johanna, or let down."

"I've already embarrassed him haven't I?" I whisper, full of dread, pulling the blankets off my head to check his face for telltale worry lines.

"I can't imagine he's thrilled that you misled everyone about your…character." There are the worry lines on his forehead. "You'll have to be very careful tonight and tomorrow night at your Victors Interview."

I sit up. "What shall I do?"

"Be the strong woman they want, exude confidence, be the bitch everyone loves to hate."

"That'll be easy."

"But don't even dare to speak against the Capitol. Make jokes about the death of Tributes, pretend you can't remember any of their names but you're so thankful to the Capitol for fixing you up, for giving you the opportunity to come out of your shell." He grasps my hand. "Hate on everything else if you want but remember: Wonderful Capitol, Brilliant Hunger Games."

I recite this mantra in my head as my Prep Team sweep me with brushes, tweeze, tease, and strip hair, paint my nails deep red and poke and prod my new boobs into the dress. They spend at least an hour on my hair which, considering there's so little of it, seems extravagant.

Blight, Egor, The Escort and Gaia walk with me through the corridors of the studio, the latter two a good few steps in front of me. None of us speak as we walk, there's nothing to be said between us. I'm furious with The Escort, Gaia is furious with me for killing her beloved Absalom and Blight is too nervous and therefore steaming drunk. Egor seems to be the only one who doesn't seem to feel the tension; he walks jovially with his arms swinging. He's definitely not all there.

When we get to the ramp that will lift me up to the stage, The Escort, Blight and Egor peel away to get themselves prepared for their entrances, leaving me with Gaia. She viciously plucks stray hairs from my head rather than tucking them away and I'm pretty sure its no accident when she pricks me with a pin.

It's not a bad dress. It's certainly not as white and virginal as the first Interview Dress. It's black and covered in sequins. I'd be like a starry night if not for the blood-red streak of sequins running down from under my left arm across my body, sweeping around the back at my right hip and trailing in a spiral down to the floor.

Gaia has also decided that I am now fit to wear a heel on my shoe as well, a sharp stiletto. I've practiced all afternoon on these and I'm assured by a passing stagehand that there'll be no steps for me to navigate in them.

Over Gaia's shoulder I can see the Victors gathered…I mean the _other _Victors, I am one now too. I wonder how many of them don't want to be here and are only here to protect members of their families. If there was a way to hide the people that they loved, now that they had the money, why didn't they do it? A thought occurs to me. Perhaps some of them do and it still doesn't work.

My eyes search their ranks for a certain face.

He makes eye contact with me, the only one of the Victors who does. I push Gaia out of the way and I run to him, stopping just short of crashing into him. We share our grief through a single look and I whisper,

"I'm sorry…I tried…but I couldn't…"

He gives a slight shake of his head, wafting away my apology with the minute movement and instantly takes me in his arms. His arms feel just like Red's, they hold me just as tight.

We share a sorrow he and I. We share a sorrow, me and Uncle Finnick.


	25. Red's Wake

**Chapter Twenty-Five- Red's Wake**

Everyone stares at our embrace.

"Do they know?" I ask Finnick.

"Some of them," he replies quietly and then pulls back and holds me at arms length. "I'll see you later babe," he says louder, with a flirtatious wink. Gaia is calling me back anyway.

"Don't be thinking that you can rush off and dally with boys now just because you're a Victor, you're still a young lady," she huffs and puffs, straightening out the creases mine and Finnick's embrace created. She's clearly jealous that I have Finnick's attention now.

Yeah a young lady with a boob job, I roll my eyes.

A big burly dark skinned man with a stump for an arm slaps Finnick on the back in a hearty way. Probably congratulating him on breaking in a new conquest so quickly.

A stagehand gives us a two minute warning and Gaia puts one more pin in my hemline to make sure the dress doesn't get caught up in my stilettos before rushing off to put on her own sky-high shoes.

With the two minutes I have to myself I set my jaw and try to find a happy place in my head to go to. This is going to be awful, and I'm going to have to act like I'm enjoying myself.

I hear the roar of a crowd as my Prep Team are thrust on stage first followed by The Escort. They must be loving it, a dream come true that they never ever thought would happen.

Gaia is announced above me and I hear the heavy clip-clop of her chunky platform shoes that raise her to the six-foot that we all recognise her to be.

There's a whir of machinery that starts up around me, and people with earpieces start running around.

Blight and Egor walk out onto the stage, waving and smiling, hopefully walking in a straight line.

Then.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, she surprised us all, we thought we'd never see her again, but here she is for all to see. Johanna Mason, Victor of the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

The floor lifts up and I'm worried about my ability to stay upright in my heels as the ground is wobbling beneath me.

My head comes up through the hole in the stage and the lights immediately blind me after the darkness underneath.

The audience has gone crazy, I can hear shouting, screaming, booing. Cameras are flashing in my face. I manage a pained smile and wave before Caesar Flickerman collects me from the hotspot. He stands in front of me and mimes bowing before me. I let out a slow, relieved breath and chuckle at him as he takes my arm and guides me to the ornate chair that will serve as my 'throne'. This year I see it has been made of a dark wood just for me with a red cushion on it. The highlights will last three hours so I'm likely to get uncomfortable.

"Johanna, hello, hello, hello!" Caesar calls out, a sign to the audience to settle down.

I give a big smile.

"Hello Caesar, it's good to see you again."

"And the same to you Miss Mason! Might I say you look a little different….did you get your haircut?"

The audience roars with laughter and I run my fingers through my funny, spiky hair. Of everything to be nipped and tweezed, I had not let them fix my hair, style it yes, but do not mess with my handiwork. I want it to remind people of my metamorphosis.

"I'm thinking of opening a salon, will you be my first customer Caesar?"

The crowd is _loving_ the banter between us, I can almost feel them lapping it all up but all too soon conversation turns to why we are all there.

"I'm sure it's the moment you've all been waiting for, the tapes are all loaded up, let's sit back, get comfortable Johanna, it's the highlights of the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

It's awful. Right from the reaping all the way to the shot of me being lifted, stunned into the hovercraft. At the reaping, Red was right, there's a ferocity in my eyes that betrays me but my fall from the chariot, which originally brought gasps from the crowd, now gets laughs. It looks painful, which it was, but it also looks completely pathetic. I feel an achy pang in my chest when I see Red standing smartly in his sparkling Fish costume on the District 4 chariot.

I sit stony-faced so if the cameras come to get my reaction they cannot see how I really feel. They do not see how pleased I am to see my tree house again. I hope they don't see me gulp down the bile rising in my throat as on screen I kill Rye. My lips purse when the screen is filled with a willow tree in the rain. My face does not change when Red dies…again but inside my stomach is tight and my mouth dry. I pull it back though during my wandering time and I am shuffling uncomfortably in my seat and yawning arrogantly by the time the muttations attack me.

I dismember Granite and Chantal again and kill Absalom Hawes one more time before Caesar Flickerman wraps it up and I am free to go.

Blight does not come back to the Training Tower, he says he is going to 'wallow' with some friends on the ending of another years Game.

Egor goes straight to bed, it is five hours past his seven o'clock bedtime after all, and Gaia and The Escort are ecstatic to have been invited to a prestigious Capitol party.

I am, therefore, alone at the dining table, holding a half empty champagne flute when there's a knock on the door. I'd poured the drink with a sense of 'Well it _is_ supposed to be a celebration." The first sip had been sweet and fizzy and I rather liked it.

I take my glass with me to the door and peek through the peephole. I see a bronze head looking down at the floor.

I open the door cautiously and say "If you're looking for the party, it's not here." It comes out with a slight slur and my cheeks go pink.

He is leaning with one arm against the doorframe. He looks every bit the teenage rebel from the movie posters I've seen dotted around, even down to his leather jacket.

"I was looking for a more exclusive party actually," he says in a low seductive voice.

"Then come on in, it'll be the most exclusive party in the whole Capitol because I'm going to bed so you'll be the only one there." I turn on my heels but leave the door open.

He grabs me from behind before I can go much further and whispers in my ear,

"How about I join you in there."

I whisper back, "Honey, I didn't think you were particularly handsome before, now I know you're not even the handsomest in your family."

"I'm sure I could change your mind if you just let me come to your room with you." There's a little more purpose in his voice now so I shrug, go to the dining table to refill my glass and nod towards the door to my bedroom.

He gives a tight smile and slips off his jacket before heading to my room, pausing at the door to take off his shirt.

Unsure of myself and what might happen in there, I down the refreshed glass of champagne and pour another, bringing it with me.

He is sitting on my bed and I can't help appreciating the tone of the muscles in his shoulders and abdomen.

"Shut the door and come here," he says, patting the bed.

I do as he says, stopping to put down my glass on the bedside table next to my pinecone. I stare at him, my eyes wide and nervous.

He tuts and rolls his eyes.

"Come here, you silly thing," and he pulls me into his arms against his bare chest. "Sorry about my brashness out there. I wasn't sure who was watching. We're safe in here though."

He even smells the same as Red, if I close my eyes I can pretend it's him. It's a mistake doing that because I don't want to open my eyes now. I keep them squeezed shut for what must be a really embarrassing amount of time for Finnick.

"I'm sorry," I whisper and to my own dismay, tears start gathering in the inner corners of my eyes. Stop it, stop it, I chastise myself. It doesn't work and the tears spill out down my face. "I'm _really_ sorry." I sit back and go to the bathroom to grab some tissues.

"Don't worry about it," he calls through. "You'd be surprised how many times I've been in bedrooms with crying girls."

"Are you that awful?" I ask as I come back into the bedroom.

"Expectations get so high, there's no way I can always live up to it."

I like him, I knew I would. How many times did Red say his uncle and I would get on well. We spend the next couple of hours chatting about nothing in particular, never Red and never the Games. He tells me about his white panelled house in the District 4 Victors Village which has a roof-top terrace that he can see the ocean from. I tell him about the awful things I used to do to Little Joey when he was young and I was jealous.

Just past two in the morning the door to the suite bangs shut and we hear girlish giggles from the living area. There's a bang of a chair going over and then more giggles.

"Your Mentors?" Finnick asks me.

"Does that sound like Blight?" I cock my head sarcastically. "It'll be Gaia and my Escort."

"Doesn't she have a name?"

"I refuse to learn it. They've been at a party, probably assume I'm out or asleep."

"Then lets fix that." He jumps to his feet and strides to the door. He throws it open and in a clear voice calls out, "Hey ladies!" I can only imagine how wide their ogling eyes must be. "Now we're not exactly sleeping in here but could you keep it down and we'll try to do the same."

I decide to have a little fun with them as well and slip off my sequinned dress, leaving me in my Capitol-style, lacy underwear. I go to the door and duck under Finnick's arm. Putting a hand on his chest, I look down and say,

"Oh look, _there's_ your shirt." As I bend down to pick it up he gooses me and I squeal.

I was right about their faces. Gaia and The Escort look like thirsty fish, mouths opening and closing in surprise.

"Come on, weren't we…?" I tug on his arm and let the question hang.

Without warning he pulls me to him and plants a kiss on my lips, shutting the door with his foot.

When we break apart he looks into my eyes.

"How was that for a kiss?"

"Not as good as…" I nearly say his name.

"I didn't think it would be." Finnick shakes his head. "I guess we should talk for serious. We can't avoid speaking about him forever."

"It's up to you, I only knew him for a week, it must be so much harder for you," I say sitting down on the bed again. "He was family."

"You're a good little actress Johanna but not good enough for me. I know how you felt for him."

"He was…" I swallow a lump. "He was good to me when no one else was."

"He was good, and there's not many truly good people in this nation." Finnick picks up my glass of champagne. "Shall we have a mini Wake for him?"

I take the glass, hold it aloft and say "To Red, I'm only here because you're not, and that's not how it should be." I drink half the contents and pass it back to Finnick.

"Red, you were a better brother to me than your mother was. She never comes fishing with me. I'll miss you more than words can describe Squirt." He downs the rest of the glass, kisses his fist and places it between his eyes, just like the District 4 death ritual.

I spend another hour listening to stories about Red such as the time he followed a girl home from school to make sure she got home safely, and then got beaten by her father for following her home. Another story is about a day on the boat that turned into a day and a night on the boat because Red spilt coffee, a Victor's luxury item, on a map.

Finally my eyes start to droop and Finnick pulls back the blankets off my bed and makes me get in.

"You've got to look your best for the interview tomorrow, your Prep Team will be in early," he tells me and I sleepily agree.

"Finnick, will you stay?"

"If you want me to."

"I do."

He climbs in next to me and I snuggle into the warmth and familiarity of his body.

"Finnick?" I murmur once more before sleep overcomes me.

"Mmm?"

"Do you snore?"

"No one's ever dared tell me."

"Oh don't worry, I will."


	26. The Victor's Interview

Chapter Twenty-Six- The Victor's Interview

Of course he doesn't snore, he is the personification of physical perfection after all. I do though and he kicks me awake to tell me on three occasions. On the third time I threaten to claw out his eyes and he doesn't wake me again.

In the morning my Prep Team burst in and scream when they see Finnick and I in bed together.

"Whoops sorry!"

"Oooh we didn't mean to interrupt!"

"Finnick could you sign my make-up bag?"

"Urgh get out!" I yell at them. If it had just been me alone there would have been no apologies.

They swish out of the room and shut the door, which is a development at least.

"Why are they here so early? I think I must have started enjoying myself too much and I'm being punished," I say as I stretch out. Finnick takes an elbow to the face and groans.

"I'm not sharing a bed with you again Mason." He sits up and twists his head until his neck cracks. "I mean you've given new meaning to the word 'clingy'."

"Shut up you liar, I stayed on my side of the bed all night." I climb out and put on mismatched top and pants over my underwear.

"I think I've got bruises in the shape of your fingerprints."

"You're such a girl, Odair!" I go to the bathroom and run a toothbrush over my teeth before splashing some water over my face. "Do you want a shower or anything?" I call out to him.

When I return to the bedroom he's got his shirt back on.

"I'm gonna go back to my floor, can't take the dizzying heights of 7," he explains.

"I'm sure we could get an oxygen mask sent up for you."

He gives me a withering smile.

"I've got a breakfast date at 9 and you…" he puts a hand on either side of my face, "…have a day of beautifying ahead of you to get you up to an acceptable attractiveness level." He drops a kiss to my cheek and dodges my lazy punch.

I walk him to the door, past the gaping mouths, and smack his butt on the way out.

"Right come on then Flakes, make me pretty." I call back to them as I stride back to my room.

For the first time during this whole ordeal, I sit there with a smile on my face. The Prep Team's inane babble just washes over me.

"Hold this ear for me will you Oberon? Have you seen the dress?"

"No, Gaia's kept it all pretty close to her chest."

"Well she's had to hasn't she? She can't recycle another outfit because she's never designed a Victor's dress before. I don't think District 7 have had a female Victor before have they Jo?"

Before I can open my mouth to tell them not to call me 'Jo' they have moved on.

"Pass me the brown brush will you V? Thanks hun. I thought Finnick was with that…whatshername…Coco something, you know the daughter of the contractor who builds the arenas for the Games."

"Well he was at Claudius's party last night with her but they left early."

"Do you think he was coming here?"

"That's what I was thinking."

They gossip all day, even through lunch, which I am denied on Gaia's strict orders.

When the dress arrives, in the standard gold bag, I see why I've been on nil by mouth. The bodice of the dress is a beautiful black bone-crushingly tight bustier with a red lace pattern over the top. The skirt is jet black with three crimson petticoats underneath.

Gaia appears around 6pm, still nursing her hangover, to knot me into the dress.

"I thought the idea of the Interview is to talk to me…I can barely breathe," I gasp, leaning over the dressing table with Gaia's knee in my back as she pulls on the ribbons in the back.

"Ladies don't need to breathe." She tugs again. "Ladies also don't invite strange men into their bedrooms." She tugs harder.

"Then please ask Oberon to stop crashing in in the mornings." I retort snidely.

That's all we speak about the matter. I am taken down to the studio and before I go on to the stage, on foot this time, Gaia dips a brush into some red paint and flicks it across my lips.

"Don't bite or lick," she warns.

A stagehand grabs me and takes me onto the stage towards my 'throne'. The audience is smaller tonight, it's more intimate. I sit down and catch Blight's eye.

'Careful' he mouths.

I nod.

Caesar runs onstage, holding his hands up.

"Sorry everyone sorry! I had an eyebrow crisis!" He grabs both my hands and kneels down in front of me. "Can you forgive me Johanna? We might yet save the evening."

More people in headsets fuss around him and he takes his seat. The lights above us shine brightly, then go out, then spotlight on me, then spotlight on Caesar, then go out and come on again.

"Ok, places people we are live in 5…4…3…" Everyone scatters until it is just Caesar and I on the stage and it is silent. A red light goes on above the lenses of all the surrounding cameras.

"Hello there Panem, here we are: The Victor's Interview. Johanna Mason has managed to squeeze herself into a…well it's gorgeous isn't it Johanna? A piece of artwork, and then managed to squeeze the artwork into our chair! You should have given us a head's up Johanna we would have found a couch for you!" He gives me a gleaming white smile.

"Oh it's lovely and cushiony actually Caesar don't worry about it." I beam back.

"Good, good. How's the Capitol been treating you since you got out of the arena? I mean aside from providing you with fabulous clothes."

"Oh it's been an eye-opener alright. I mean last night I tried champagne for the first time, boy is that stuff fun!"

Caesar chuckles, "Well treat that one carefully, it's not so fun the next day. What else?"

"I'm loving….just everything at the moment."

I gush and gush about the Capitol. I even bitch about how boring it will be at home now after experiencing so much here. I talk about how glad I am that I'll be moving to the Victors Village and have a telephone in my new house to talk to my new Capitol friends.

"Speaking of friends, I'm sure you know what I'm going to ask you about now." Caesar raises an eyebrow and points to a screen in front of us beside one of the cameras. It shows a willow tree in the rain. "Now what was happening in there hmm? We've all been dying to know because you went in there on a rampage and came out with some bruises. Then…" The screen changes to show the muted footage of me stroking back Red's hair as he dies. "…you're friends again."

A part of me had known that I was going to be asked that question at some point, but I still hadn't prepared an answer for it. What an idiot. What do I say?

"He wasn't who I thought he was," I say, looking at the floor. "I went in with a plan and that plan got screwed up."

"Yes you certainly had a plan, lets take a look at the metamorphosis as that plan came together shall we?" Caesar saves me by changing the subject and the screen shows two pictures of me. The first is from my reaping getting on the train, the flowers in my long hair, which is draped over my face. The second is from the Game Highlights in my sequin dress with my new nose, new breasts and polished skin.

We discuss how easy I found pretending I was useless and the contempt I felt for everyone who fell for my act. Once I get started on my 'relationship' with Absalom I really let rip. Having seen the Game Highlights gives me more ammo for my verbal assault on his character profile.

Caesar has to stop me ranting because the show is coming to an end.

"Ok, thank you so much Johanna, loving the inside gossip about all the other Tributes. I'm really looking forward to our interview towards the end of the Victory Tour and getting the gossip from the Districts." He grasps one of my hands again. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here before you head home and have a lovely time tonight at the Victors Party at President Snow's mansion."

"Thank you Caesar." Damn I'd forgotten about the Party. Hopefully Finnick will be there too so it shouldn't be too awful. I'll have to have a reception with President Snow who might very well be furious with me but as long as I keep my wits about me, I'll be home soon enough.

"Just stay away from that champagne tonight," Caesar shakes a finger at me. "You're only young remember. Thank you again Johanna and might I just add on a personal note, I was absolutely devastated to hear about your Father."

My smile falters.

"What?"


	27. Gently Smiling Jaws

******A/N- I realised last night when I flicked through the book that I've pretty much messed up the timings of all the Post-Games appearances so please forgive me those of you who have noticed :) Also the title of this chapter comes from Lewis Carroll's poem- 'How Doth The Little Crocodile'- which I think sums up President Snow just too well. **

**Chapter Twenty-Seven- Gently Smiling Jaws**

The red light on the camera flickers off and I am bustled off the stage by people with headsets and clipboards.

I'm still stunned. What? What? What has happened to my Father? '_devastated to hear about your Father?'_ Is he hurt? Dead?

By the time I snap back to my senses I am with Blight and The Escort in a motorcar.

"What's happened to my Father?" I screech, startling both of them.

Blight puts his hand on my arm but I shake him off vehemently.

"Don't touch me! Tell me!" I scream.

The car makes a stop outside the gates of the mansion and I immediately reach for the door to make an escape. Blight grabs me and throws me back into my seat.

"Do not let this distract you," he snaps at me. "We can't do anything to find out about your Father tonight, all we can do is stick to our guns and watch what we say. Just remember this is your party and this is the President's house."

The car starts to move again through the gates and along the driveway towards the house. There are guards everywhere, some obviously armed, some not so obviously.

I sit in the car with my fists clenched and my teeth gritted. How can I just pretend that I'm fine? What if President Snow has punished me by hurting my Father? How can I now spend the evening in his house at this banquet with him?

An Avox with bright white hair opens the car door for me to get out. The Escort gives me a little shove and I almost tumble out onto the paving stones. The Avox catches me and sets me back the right way up.

"Thank you," I whisper and he nods quickly before beckoning me inside.

A young woman with metallic gold hair, wearing a matching gold floor-length dress introduces herself as one of President Snow's personal assistants and takes me up the servants' stairs so that I can make my first appearance at the balcony of the ballroom. She then tells me that as soon as I am done waving and smiling I will be taken down to meet guests in the ballroom.

"President Snow was unable to attend your Game Highlights to award you with your crown so he will give it to you tonight," I am told as curtains are pulled back and I am thrust onto a balcony.

Below me the sound of idle chatter ceases and a hundred faces turn up towards me. There is a smattering of applause but nothing like what I have gotten used to. These are different people. These are the sponsors that wasted their money on dead Tributes and people who lost bets because I tricked them. I'm not relishing the idea of going down for a mass meet and greet session.

I wave (I cannot manage a smile) for less than a minute before the tension is too much and I disappear behind the curtain again.

The assistant tells me not to worry, once the liquor starts flowing, they'll be livelier. I'm not sure I want that to happen.

When I get down to the ballroom floor, Blight quickly accosts me for which I am exceedingly grateful. He also passes me a flute of champagne.

"I haven't had chance yet," he babbles. "but I'm going to circulate and try to work out what's been happening at home. Obviously someone knows for Caesar to have found out. Though I've got a feeling it was fed to him through his earpiece at the last minute to throw you off your game." His cheeks are slightly flushed so I suspect he's had a couple of these glasses of fizz already. "Mingle, talk to people." He disappears back into the crowd again.

I see the big man with only one arm again which means there are other Victors here so maybe Finnick is here then. I crane my neck and turn around to try and spot him but I can't. Someone touches my arm gently. It's an elderly woman with big pale pink hair. She is hunched over a shining ruby-coloured cane.

"Miss Mason?" She tries to get my attention. "Miss Mason, I'm terribly sorry, could you sign this picture for my granddaughter, she was supposed to come with me tonight but had to—well her invitation was cancelled, but she loved watching you."

She pushes a pen and a copy of the headshot that had been shown with my Training Score at me. I absentmindedly write my name on it and drift away from the old woman.

A man with an orange beard steps in front of me and tells me that I owe him a lot of money. He bet all his kids' school fees on Absalom winning.

A girl not much older than me complains to me that she'd had a crush on Granite and how could I have looked into his hunky face and then split it in half?

A few dozen other people try to talk at me but I just blank them. My Father may be dead, I want to scream but I focus on trying to find a friendly face.

Heading towards me I see not a friendly face but a familiar one. The girl with gold hair has come to take me for my private 'chat' with President Snow. She points back up to the balcony and I see him up there talking with some men in suits.

We go back up the stairs and I have a vision of President Snow just getting one of his heavies to throw me straight off the balcony in front of everyone. Maybe I'll land on the woman who's granddaughter got uninvited because she was a fan.

Before I go through the curtains I can smell something unnaturally sweet. It can't be the kitchen from all the way up here. The assistant goes through first to check that everything is prepared. I hear a brief, muffled interaction and then the assistant holds open the curtain and beckons me in.

"Miss Mason!" President Snow rises from his seat, doing up his jacket buttons.

The smell is almost choking now. He has a small red rose in his lapel and I realise that's what I can smell, the musk of rose. It's far too strong though, it can't just be from that small bud can it? Perhaps it's coming off him as well.

"How lovely to finally meet you." He takes my hand loosely in his and looks straight into my eyes.

"Likewise," I say simply, ever so slightly nervously.

Snow turns to the men in suits, "Gentlemen I think I'll be alright up here, go…keep yourselves busy. Miss Mason was checked for axes at the door, weren't you?" He chuckles to himself and, with almost no hesitation, the suits laugh too. They shuffle out through the curtain but I don't hear their footsteps go very far.

"Now, we're alone Johanna. Is it alright if I call you Johanna? Or Jo-Jo? That's what your family call you isn't it? We're sort of like family now aren't we?" He pats a seat next to him and I feel obliged to sit down. The smell of roses is worse at his level, now I'm not sure if it's coming out of his mouth as well.

"What's happened to my Father?" I whisper.

He puts his hand over mine and I try hard not to flinch.

"Oh yes, that was unfortunate. So sad, it's always sad when a poor District family loses it's main breadwinner."

"Loses?" My breath catches in my throat. "Wha—?"

"I know, poor Mother and Little Joey. And it's not just the grief too, I imagine there's a certain amount of shame when suicide is involved."

"Suicide?" It doesn't make sense and I wring my hands. Why would my Father kill himself? I somehow find my voice to say, "Is this my punishment?"

"Your punishment? Whatever do you mean my dear?" He smiles lazily. I feel like I'm staring into the open jaws of a predator.

"For pretending to be nothing and fooling everyone."

"Oh no, no Johanna," he chortles. "No that's not what concerns me, the pretence was clever but it was a plan. You had a plan Johanna. Everyone has a strategy for the Games but you had a plan and _that's_ what worries me. We've got no need for plans here in the Capitol. I want you to understand that, I make all the plans around here. We could be good friends you and I Jo-Jo, we're very alike I think, but I make the plans."

"You killed my Father because you think I might be planning something?" My voice is starting to rise.

"Oh I didn't kill your Father Johanna, you did. He's had a rough time of it the past few weeks, tried to avoid watching for a while. He saw your Game Highlights though, saw you kill, saw you laughing about it. I reckon it pushed him over the edge, seeing his Princess, that's what he called you isn't it? Seeing his Princess turned into such a monster."

I'm silenced. It's my fault. I killed my Daddy.

"Of course you'll want to rush straight home to see your family. Your train is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your night here, I've got a friend I'd like you to meet tomorrow night though." Snow curls a finger at someone that I wasn't aware could see us.

A man slips through the curtain and stands awkwardly behind the President's chair.

"Johanna this is Malcolm, he's an enormous fan of yours aren't you Malcolm?"

Malcolm is an intensely nervous character. He twiddles his thumbs and I can see beads of sweat building on his forehead. He nods several times, his fuchsia quiff wavering.

"He'd like ever so much to take you out tomorrow night, wouldn't you Malcolm?"

A few more dozen nods.

"And I'm sure Johanna, would be absolutely charmed to go with you. You see Malcolm, Miss Mason has had some bad news regarding her family so she'll need cheering up. I'm sure her mother wouldn't want her wasting her time in the Capitol worrying about home, would she Johanna?" There's a warning in his eyes. It's a warning that says, 'Do as I say and there'll be no need to worry about home'.

I swallow any semblance of pride or self-determination and say,

"I'd like to see you tomorrow Malcolm."

"Say thank you Johanna," Snow says snidely.

"Thank you Malcolm."

"I'm so sorry Malcolm, she's from the Districts, and I'm not sure what sort of manners they teach their children out there. None at all from what I've seen. Anyway I'll be looking forward to hearing all about it Malcolm, I'll see you later." He'll be checking up on me.

Malcolm leaves us and President Snow compliments my dress before rising to his feet and asking me to do the same. Some Suits on the ballroom floor get everyone's attention and they all watch Snow ceremoniously place a wooden, somewhat thorny, crown on my head. It weighs a lot more than it first appears and I feel my neck soon tiring of it.

Bow down, the crown is saying. Bow down and be good, you've already killed your Father, don't put a toe out of line or it'll be someone else.

I've put my whole family in reach of those gently smiling jaws.


	28. Welcome To The Brothel

**Chapter Twenty-Eight- Welcome To The Brothel**

When I get back down to the ballroom Finnick is in front of me in a second.

"Are you ok? I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner." He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair and he's slightly out of breath. Behind him stands a waif-like young woman. Her hair hangs like a raven waterfall pooling into dark rippling ringlets on her shoulders and she wears a cyan rimmed hat, which sits slightly to one side, covering one eye.

"My Father…"is all I'm able to get out.

"I'm sorry." He pulls me into a warm hug and then whispers so quietly that I can barely hear, "Have you met Snow yet?"

"Yes," I breathe in reply and feel his arms tighten around me. The dark-haired woman tuts audibly and folds her arms. "Who's that?" I ask.

He pulls back and turns to her but keeps my hand securely in his.

"Oh this is…umm…Ja—"

"Carissa," she replies tartly.

"Yes Carissa." He turns back to me and adds, "Her hat cost more than my old house you know."

"It is a nice hat," I nod. "But it's not on straight." I reach out to adjust it for her but Finnick grabs my hand and Carissa has taken a gigantic step backwards.

"It's meant to be like that," Finnick says.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not from round here." I think about President Snow's excuse for my rude behaviour.

Carissa smirks and sticks her nose in the air, looking around her but having to crane her neck to one side due to her infringed eyesight.

I mouth 'Are you serious?' at Finnick and he furrows his brow in defeat.

"Come on Ja—Carissa, it's time to go." He takes her hand but kisses me hard on the lips in front of everyone. "Love the crown. I'll see you later Gorgeous."

"But—" Carissa protests but he cuts her off.

"Shush, let's go." He drags her away and in the distance I hear her giggling. I wonder what happened to Coco.

Over the couple of hours that I am left to myself to circulate, a couple more people compliment me on my crown, someone questions me about District 7 and an old man rudely asks me how long I've been sleeping with Finnick Odair.

Not a moment too soon The Escort appears to tell me it's time to go home. She's scooped Blight off a bathroom floor and he sits in the back of the car, heaving out of an open window.

In the elevator on the way up to our suite, Blight jerks out of his stupor to grab me by the shoulders,

"I tried to find out Johanna. I tried to find out about your Father but I couldn't…I couldn't get—" He stops mid-sentence to burp and I immediately regret the true conclusion that can be reached from this situation: Where there is alcohol, I can't trust him to look out for me.

The Escort tells me to ignore him and helps him hobble out of the elevator when the doors open.

"Johanna," The Escort calls back to me when she gets to the suite door. "There's one for you to bring in as well."

When I get to the door I see a pair of legs spread out in front of the doorway.

The Escort props Blight against the doorframe while she struggles to get the door open. When she steps out of the way I see who the legs belong to.

"Finnick!"

He looks up and I can see that his eyes are red and drooping. Drunk as well.

"Hey Gorgeous!" He struggles to get to his feet so I offer him a hand and pull him up. He wobbles when he is upright and I'm afraid that he'll stumble and crash into Blight and they'll both go down.

"What are you doing here and can you walk?" I let Blight lean on me and The Escort takes his other side.

"Yeah I can walk, I was just waiting for you." Finnick rubs his tired looking eyes and shuffles after us.

The Escort takes the brunt of Blight's weight when we get inside and says, "I'll take this one, you take the other one." She nods at Finnick, who is concentrating a bit too hard on trying to perch on the arm of the couch. She catches my eyes and adds, "Call me if you need any help."

"Thanks." I leave her to it, glad that I won't have to help Blight get into his 'jammies'.

I offer my hand to Finnick. He doesn't notice, he's staring at the floor.

"Odair?" He snaps back into the room. "You ok?"

He nods slowly.

"You wanna go to sleep?"

He nods again, very slowly.

"Come on then."

It takes longer than the entire car journey back to the Training Center just to get to my bedroom with him. When we get there he starts stripping off. As his shirt comes off I gasp. He has two semi-circular markings on his shoulder blade, one of which is bleeding.

"Damn Odair, what happened?" I go to my chest of drawers and search through the rich clothes for the sparkling blue tub containing the medicine I'd used before the Game to fix up my grazes after the chariot fall.

He doesn't answer, almost dazed he traced over the marks with his index finger.

"Here," I open the tub and scoop the little remainder of the pink mixture onto my fingers. "Stay still." I delicately tap the medicine onto his shoulder blade. It mixes with the blood and turns slightly orange but I think it'll still work.

"This…it looks like a bite mark Finnick."

He doesn't flinch. His jaw is taut though.

"Did Carissa do this to you? She looked skinny but I didn't think she was that hungry."

Still no answers, so I pull back the blankets on the bed and make him get in. I get a glass from the liquor cabinet in the living room and fill it with water from my bathroom. By the time I put it down on the bedside table he is asleep.

I go round to the other side of the bed, slip off my puffy red petticoats and black dress, kicking them across the room, and get in myself. I turn off the light and curl into a ball, hoping not to disturb him tonight like I did last night.

Before I get chance to doze off properly I feel one of his arms reach out for me so I turn onto my back and hold his hand, our fingers interlocked.

He raises his head off the pillows and looks at me in the darkness.

"You ok?" I ask again. "There's water on the side if you need it."

Instead of replying, he moves closer and kisses me. There's no one around to make a show for so I'm thoroughly confused. I push him away and turn the lights back on.

"What are you doing that for?"

His eyebrows knot together and he looks bewildered.

"Johanna?"

"Who did you think it was?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure." His eyes start drooping again and he falls back to the pillows. "I wasn't sure where I was," he says with his eyes closed.

"So you just thought you'd try it on with me whoever I was?" I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.

"I didn't know, I just thought I was in bed with someone and passed out. You'll get it soon enough."

Now I'm definitely insulted.

"Excuse me?"

"You talked to Snow tonight right?" He rolls over so he's facing me, but his eyes are still closed. "Are you telling me that he didn't produce a 'friend' for you to meet sometime?"

There's a beat of tense silence as realisation hits me.

"He did." All the different girls Finnick is known for getting through. The bite mark. His intoxication. His breakfast 'date'. Has Finnick….am I being sold to the highest bidder?

"Sorry Mason, welcome to the brothel."

I put my hands over my face. I thought I'd be free when I won. I thought I'd go home and everything would be the same. Inside I'm going home to a Fatherless family as the Capitol's whore. I doubt very much that Malcolm will be the only man 'kind' enough to 'take me out'. Will I be expected to come to the Capitol or will I only be called upon during The Hunger Games?

"Finnick?" I whisper.

"Mmm?"

"Can I come closer?"

"Sure, might as well enjoy it before you get sick of physical contact."

"Do I make you sick?"

Finnick reaches over me to turn out the light and then puts his arms around me.

"Of course you don't. I was just saying that. Don't listen to me, I'm drunk. I'm sorry, this wasn't the night for me to do this, you've just found out that your Father is—"

"Shh, stop talking please." I put my hand across his mouth. "Let's go to sleep before another bombshell gets dropped and ruins my life again."

"Yeah, go to sleep." He settles himself with his nose touching the end of mine. "I'm sorry again Johanna."

I don't reply. His apology doesn't mean anything. He didn't kill my Father, he isn't selling my body, his apology isn't the one I need.

The feeling of his breath on my face is reassuring though. At least I'm not alone.


	29. Trapped

**Chapter Twenty-Nine- Trapped**

I'm pretty sure there aren't many people that can say they've seen Finnick Odair looking anything less than perfect, but that morning I become one of those few people. He looks rough. He's pale, sweating and shaking.

"I'll be honest, you don't look good Odair," I say as I give him another glass of water. "Do you want something to eat?"

He shudders.

"No, no food."

"Then what do you need?" I'm starting to lose my patience with him.

"To go back in time and not drink so much last night." He falls back onto the bed and curls up, moaning.

"Then why did you?"

"Because she was so awful! Her hat cost more than my house Johanna! Her Mother is a co-director of the Escort Programme, she helps decide who will be an Escort and for which District. That's the thing, every 'friend' Snow finds for you has a connection to someone with responsibilities in the Capitol. I went to a bar one time with the girl who's Grandfather distributed the lumber from District 7 to the rest of Panem."

"Petruchio Calvus?" I exclaim. "I know him! My Father used to be home in time for dinner before Mr Calvus took over, after that he worked until the sun went down during the summer and came home just to go straight to bed. Stuck up son of a bitch just sits behind his desk here in the Capitol looking at production numbers not thinking about the people working to exhaustion to create those numbers." I start pacing the room, "I hate them Finnick. How can I pretend to be sweetness and light when I hate them so much?"

"Look, Mason, stop pacing you're making me feel nauseous. You don't have to be sweetness and light, just be yourself." He sits up and downs another glass of water.

"If I'm 'myself' I'll probably end up stabbing poor Malcolm."

"Not always a bad idea, some of them like that." He gets up to go to the mirror to check out his bite. "But they're never 'poor', they all want their piece of flesh."

The semi-circular markings are faded and shiny but still visible.

"No matter how pathetic or nerdy they seem, they've still paid for it," he adds.

There's a light shuffling sound from the other side of the bedroom door a split second before it bursts open.

"I'm heading down to get Blight something for his hangover from the store, did you want me to get something here as well?" The Escort announces mid-stride. She stops, looks a little thrown and says, "Is that a bite mark?"

I bare my teeth at her as Finnick tells her we don't need anything.

"She's in trouble," he says once she's gone.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" He's pulling his shirt back on. "You, of course."

I roll my eyes, "What have I done _now_?"

"Carissa told me some secrets. She said that her Mother is retracting her from the Escort Programme because they think she knew about your bluff."

"What? She's an idiot, of course she didn't know!" I feel offended that they think my plan was weak enough for someone as dense as The Escort to spot. If she could, the whole nation would have.

"Whether she knew or didn't, she dropped the ball so now she's being dropped. I don't know if she knows yet though."

"Good job I didn't learn her name then," I say.

"That's heartless." He grins at me before shutting himself in the bathroom, but that doesn't stop my reply.

"She's pretty heartless too you know!" I bang on the door. "She's only offering to get me stuff because I'm a Victor now and therefore her ticket to parties!"

I hear a louder knock on the door to the suite.

"Look she can't even remember the code to get into the room!" I call back to the closed door.

When I throw open the suite door, a condescending look already etched onto my face, I am surprised to see an Avox in the dark blue mail carriers uniform. She holds out a red envelope to me and I see it has my name on it.

"Thank you," I say as I take the envelope. As soon as it crosses over the threshold I get a wafting scent of roses. I immediately want to thrust it back at the Avox but she has gone. I don't want to open it. I hear the bathroom door go. Finnick. Finnick can open it for me.

"Finn…"

"What?" He comes out of my bedroom, securing his watch to his wrist. It looks like he's stood under the shower for a couple of seconds, his hair is damp and he's got a bit more colour to his face.

I hold up the red envelope and he freezes, the colour draining out again.

"What is it?" I ask, alarm in my voice, his reaction scares me.

"For you or me?" he asks.

"Me. What is it? It smells like Snow and you look like you've just been electrocuted."

He lets go of a held breath and drops his eyes.

"It'll be the details for your 'date'. I thought… I thought it was a delay on my ticket home and another girl."

"When are you going home?"

"My train leaves at four this afternoon," he says sheepishly.

There's an awkward silence between us. A silence that I break.

I grab a vase with a single flower in it and throw it at him.

"When were you going to tell me?" The vase smashes against the back of the couch, just missing him. "You know what I've got to do tonight, you think I'm going to do it alone?" I demand.

"Mason…" he starts.

"No! I can't believe this!" I rip the door off the liquor cabinet and start throwing glasses at him in rapid succession. "You don't just turn up here, drunk and expect me to look after you if you don't intend on doing the same!" Hot, furious tears start spilling down my flushed cheeks.

He comes closer to me and tries to put his arms around me but I fight him, landing ferocious punches to his chest and abdomen. He takes each one I dole out without so much as a grunt.

Eventually I tire and just sink into his body.

He kisses the top of my head.

"Did you book your own train ticket?" he says.

"No," I reply. "Snow told me last night that I'm going home tomorrow."

"Does any part of your crazy head…" he kisses it again, "…think that I booked my own?"

I put my crazy mind to it and come to the logical conclusion.

"Snow."

"Of course. _This_ is your punishment. He'll have seen how friendly we've gotten, he probably even knows about Red. He's arranged for me to go home to leave you on your own to make it harder for you. I'll be on the end of a telephone from tomorrow afternoon."

"I don't have a telephone," I mumble petulantly.

"You will in your new house at the Victors' Village dumb-ass. Just remember, be the person they think you are."

"A bitch?"

"Exactly. During dinner with this Malcolm just pretend you're with me."

"Aww don't say that, now I definitely won't want to sleep with him."

"That's the spirit," he laughs and we hold each other for a little longer before he says, "That was one hell of a tantrum."

I bite my lip. "I know, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it was err…awesome. Maybe do that on your 'date' and it'll be over pretty quickly."

"As well my Mother and brother's lives?"

"Good point."

There's the sound of a few beeps at the door and The Escort bustles in carrying several shopping bags. I don't think she's noticed the glass all over the floor because she doesn't falter on her trip to her bedroom.

"I should go, start packing you know." Finnick finally says.

"Wait!" I pull back and rip open the red envelope. "8:30 at 'Guillermo's'. What do you think?"

"Oh that's a good place, great wine." He shrugs.

"Oh shut up and go Odair, you're no good." I smile and give him a shove towards the door.

"Call me. I'll see you on your Victory Tour in six months."

"That long?" I whisper.

"Unless Malcolm is the brother of the guy who gives out Inter-District Travel Permits," he replies in a sad voice.

We hug one more time and he leaves me alone. I have 9 hours until my date.

At 8:15 I get in the motorcar to the restaurant. I must look such a state. I've had to do my own make-up and put together my own outfit for the first time since I arrived in the Capitol all that time ago. I've gone for a short black dress with black lace over the top, the skirt is fitted at my waist and falls loosely to just above my knees. I've used the red paint on my lips and I attempted to stick on the false eyelashes that my prep team always give me. Unfortunately they made me look like I had two spiders stuck to my eyelids so I ripped them straight off again.

I arrive ten minutes early, much to my chagrin. I'd hoped to arrive late and swoop in without an apology. I take out my frustration on the driver and tell him he drives like a maniac before stomping into the restaurant.

"Miss Mason, Miss Mason, this way!" A man in a tuxedo waves at me and I follow him to a private room at the back.

Malcolm is already there. How long had he been waiting? He's just as sweaty as I remember him. Sadly, he's wearing a light blue suit and I can see the sweat patches under his armpits. He jumps to his feet when I approach the table and knocks his chair over. His face flushes bright red and I almost feel sorry for him. Then I remember Finnick's words.

'Don't pity him. He's paid for you' I think.

"Hello Malcolm," I say curtly and sit down, tucking my skirt under me.

"H-h-hello Joh—Miss Mason," he stutters. "H-h-how are y-you?"

"Just peachy," I reply picking up the enormous menu with one hand and grabbing the sleeve of a passing waiter with the other. "Wine please." I go with Finnick's recommendation.

Malcolm specifies a particular wine and I don't complain. I'm just lucky I haven't been caught out yet. This is the first restaurant I've ever been in.

It's also the first sip of wine I've ever had; we don't get luxuries like that in District 7, not even in the wealthier merchant areas. It's a shock to the system. I ask what is in it before it arrives and Malcolm tells me it's made of grapes so I'm expecting a sweetness to it like the grapes I had in the arena. When I take my first sip I almost spit it back out again. It's so bitter! But, when I swallow, I feel warmth spread through my body and it relaxes me. I ask the waiter what is in every item on the menu, it looks as though it's written in a different language.

Malcolm looks as though he's getting bored with me half way through the waiter's translation and orders for me.

I'm working my way quite quickly through the bottle of wine, once I discover the warm feeling I test it by drinking more to see how warm and relaxed it can make me.

Malcolm makes dull chit-chat about his life in the Capitol and how tedious his work can be.

"So the Games are the highlight of my year really. I'm a bit obsessed with them really, I go on holiday every year to the arenas, sometimes twice. This year was my favourite though, the way you changed Johanna, urgh it was inspiring, it was amazing."

He gushes and compliments and raves about how awesome I am. I'll admit, it's not terrible but what does worry me slightly is how animated he becomes. I thought he was nervous and intimidated but now he's sprung to life I'm unsure. At one point, when he talks about the speculation around Red and I, he seems almost manic.

"My friends all say that you two were doing something dirty in there but I defended you, I said you were absolutely not like that!"

He seems to be on a monologue so I concentrate on devouring the steak he ordered me. He's still talking when I finish so I start on the side of garlic bread. When that's gone I'm left with wine and his conversation.

"…so I said to him, 'She'll kill Absalom' and no one else at work thought you would, they thought you'd be jumped by the District 2 pair before that happened."

It's like sitting through the Game Highlights all over again.

The downside to the warm feeling the wine gives me is that it does make my attention span significantly shorter and I feel my eyes wandering around the room as he's talking. It's rude, I know but I can't help it. I felt like I was going to be trapped there, in that private room, being told how 'awesome' it was that I killed those people. Fortunately (and unfortunately) when he finally finishes his meal he drops something onto the table and says to me,

"Would you like to come and see my…my apartment?"

I think about making an excuse but know that as much as it was phrased as a question, it wasn't meant as one.

I go back to 'see his apartment'.

It is painful, emotionally and physically. I just think about how soon I will be home, and I'll be able to comfort my grieving family. I'll be able to pretend that this all didn't happen.

I'm not sure whether I am expected to stay until morning or go back to my own bed. Malcolm falls asleep with an arm draped over me.

I am trapped until morning by Malcolm.

Trapped for who knows how long by the Capitol.


	30. Homecoming

Chapter Thirty- Homecoming

I watch the sun fade in through the blinds across the floor-to-ceiling window in Malcolm's bedroom and decide that it's time to go. I roll out from his grasp and pull on my dress, carrying my shoes by the straps so as to make less noise. I find an Avox in the entrance hall and ask him to call me a car.

I almost fall asleep on the journey, my eyes have not closed all night. Despite the wine I could not relax enough to get off to sleep trapped under Malcolm's arm.

When I get back to the 7th Floor of the Training Centre I find Blight stood staring out of the window, an amber liquid in the glass in his hand. Egor is swinging a small suitcase in his hand, grinning at no one.

"There you are," Blight says without turning to look at me.

"Here I am," I flop into the armchair and wince slightly at the pain between my legs.

"Better pack your stuff, our train leaves at 10."

"I don't have any stuff, they didn't exactly give me chance to pack my teddy bear when they hooked me away from my home."

"Doesn't mean you can't re-home the things you like from here," Egor pipes up, that smile on his face turning slightly cheeky as he taps his suitcase.

I can't help but giggle at him.

"Last year he stole that suitcase…and a lot of toilet paper," Blight informs me. "Absolute Klepto."

"What does that mean?" I shake my head.

"Never mind," Blight finishes his drink. "Go pick some clothes you want to keep."

I sigh and struggle back to my feet. I have to resist sitting down on the bed out of fear that I won't get back up again. I spot one of Gaia's gold bags in the corner of the wardrobe so I start stuffing things unceremoniously into it. In goes some combat pants, a few blouses, strappy tops, the red paint for my lips, the little comb that my Prep Team have been using on my hair now that it's cropped, and finally my pinecone. When I put the pinecone in the bag, it finally hits me: I'm going home. I'm going back to the fresh, natural air. I'm going back to Mother's burnt jerky and watery beef broth. I'm going back to Uncle Fern's butcher shop. I'm going back to Little Joey.

I remember the confused wave he gave me at the Reaping, and the thought that it might be the last time I saw him. I'm going to see him again.

The realisation of all this makes me forget about the horrible night I've just had, it'll just be a nightmare that I can leave behind me.

I get changed into a happy sunshine yellow dress and, like Egor, I skip out of my room when it's time to go and even wave to the masses on the train platform.

"Johanna! Johanna! You look fabulous!"

"Johanna have a good trip home!"

"Johanna see you on the Victory Tour!"

It's worlds away from what they were shouting at me the first time I was here. I wonder if any of them were the ones asking me if I was scared to die.

On the train, I go straight to a bedroom and collapse on the bed, falling asleep immediately.

When I wake up, the sun has almost set and the skyscraping towers of The Capitol are hundreds of miles behind us. Judging by the hovercraft silos I can see on the horizon, we must be in, or almost reaching District 6. Do I know anyone from District 6? There was the boy with glasses who died in the bloodbath but I'm relieved to conclude that I have no guilt associated with District 6.

I leave my room to scout out food. In the dining carriage Blight and Egor are finishing a meal. It smells good.

"What's for dinner?" I breathe in deeply as I sit down.

"Whatever you want," beams Egor. "Here have some cake!" He passes me a little plate with a creamy white chocolate cake on it. My mouth waters.

"Where's The Escort?" I say through a mouthful of the dessert.

"I thought she'd come before us, I haven't seen her all day," Egor replies.

"You still don't know her name do you?" Blight frowns disapprovingly at me.

"Whatever, if she's not here I don't need to know her name anymore do I? Did you try this cake? It's good cake, have some cake." I scoop a slice onto another plate and offer it to Blight. He doesn't take it.

"What do you know?" His frown deepens.

"I think she got fired," I put his slice on my own plate and mumble into the icing. "Because of me and my little…pretence."

Silence.

"Do you not like cake?" Egor stares, confused. "You weren't pretending to spare my feelings were you? I-I didn't make it, I just thought it would be a nice treat." He looks upset and I sigh.

"No Egor, that wasn't what I was pretending about."

"Oh, good," and his face brightens again right away. Bless his senile mind. "You're going to love your new house Johanna whichever one you choose, there's a cabin right next door to me that backs straight onto the forest. Or I guess you might like a bigger house for your brother to run around." He babbles excitedly about the Victors' Village. I guess I'm not the only one happy to be on the way home.

After dinner, Blight attempts to teach me how to play a game on a chequered board but every time I move a piece he tells me it's not allowed. I hope the world doesn't get to hear about the girl that can win a fight to the death but can't work out a board game.

Egor makes his way to bed at his usual time and I use the distraction to tip the board and scatter the pieces everywhere.

"You're a sore loser Johanna Mason," Blight moans as he crawls on the floor picking it all up.

"Funnily enough, that's not the first time I've heard that. There was this skipping competition in the schoolyard that these girls set up and I didn't do too well so I cut the rope. Another time my neighbour beat me in a race home from school so I threw a rock through his window," I recall.

"Do you think there'll be many people happy to see you back in District 7?" Blight muses.

"Shut up," I reply.

We pull into the District 7 station just after lunch the next day. I'm at the door before we've even stopped.

I throw it open and feel like I'm dreaming.

Pink hair, green skin, gold tattoos, are we back in the Capitol?

"The photographers beat us home," Blight says in my ear. "Just push through them."

I do, perhaps with more force than necessary. Beyond them is the Mayor of District 7, holding out a hand for me to shake. I walk right past the hand and the crowd of officials and see my Mother with Uncle Fern holding Little Joey. Little Joey reaches out for me. I run. My joy at seeing them fades when I take in my Mother's face, her black dress and I realise that my sunshiney dress is out of place here.

I fall against my Mother and hold her tightly. I wait for her to respond alike but Uncle Fern puts Little Joey down and pulls me towards him instead. I can hear cameras clicking behind us so I break the embrace and wheel around to glare at them, I don't even get to open my mouth though as Uncle Fern yells at them,

"Get out of here, Vultures! We're burying her Father today!"

"Are we?" I stare at him.

He nods sadly. "I'm so sorry Jo-Jo but they couldn't hold him any longer and we didn't want to do it before you were home."

Mother sobs next to me. I take her hands and try to look into her eyes but she avoids my gaze.

"I'm sorry Mommy," I say quietly.

She turns away from me and starts walking down the road towards the cemetery.

Uncle Fern squeezes my shoulder to reassure me but I barely feel it. I've been away for a few weeks, fighting to survive and now I'm home my own Mother can't look me in the eye. This doesn't feel like the homecoming I'd been looking forward to, the homecoming I'd fought for, the homecoming I'd killed for.

"Here, Little Joey, why don't you show Jo-Jo what you've brought for her." Uncle Fern is trying to distract me, and the few onlookers that are still hanging around waiting for me to shake the Mayor's hand.

Little Joey digs around in the pockets of his smart pants (the ones with no holes yet), and produces a handful of crushed daisies.

"Oh dude, I gave you one job!" Uncle Fern playfully chastises him and tickles him under the arms. Little Joey shrieks and giggles, eliciting smiles from our little audience.

I can't manage a smile; the muscles in my face won't work. I just watch my Mother making her way slowly towards my Father's funeral.


	31. Family

**Chapter Thirty-One- Family**

The Cemetery is split into two sections, one for those who have died as regular citizens of District 7 and those who have died connected to The Hunger Games. There are other cemeteries dotted around, we're quite a big District so sometimes it's not possible to get the bodies to the main one here in Capitol Town as we call it. It's the political hub of District 7, if you can call the Justice Building, train station and a few merchant stores a 'political hub'. Uncle Fern's butcher shop is one of the businesses in Capitol Town and our house was only a couple of miles away.

"We used a little of your new wealth to buy him a plot here," Uncle Fern informs me as we weave around the graves. "I—We thought it would be nice now we know that when you…go…you'll just be the other side of that fence."

He points across to the fenced off Victors' section of the graveyard. Tributes and Victors are always buried here in Capitol Town. There are three mausoleums over there holding the remains of long forgotten winners of old.

"Can't wait," I murmur tersely.

It's a longer journey because we can't walk in a straight line. Here in District 7 when someone dies, his or her family plant a shrub or a bush in the grave as a symbol of the death of the person giving life to something else beautiful. Some are slightly larger bushes and some are full grown trees now. There was a panic a few years ago, my Uncle told me, that some of the tree roots would bring the dead up again. I didn't sleep for about a week after hearing that story, wondering if the dead could walk two miles to our little hamlet built around the lumberyard.

We find my Father's grave by following the sound of Mother's sobs. Little Joey runs to her and she grabs him fiercely.

A man in a suit from the Justice Building joins us to officiate the funeral. Basically he is there to tick a box saying that he's seen that my Father is actually dead. One or two others from the lumberyard arrive to say goodbye to the man they've worked with for 20 years too.

They lower his coffin into the hole and fill it in.

Mother does not stop crying. I even see Uncle Fern wipe away a tear for his brother-in-law. I do not cry. I can't cry. Why can't I cry? What's wrong with me? I look over at Mother's grief for inspiration. Nothing. I screw up my face and try to force a tear. Nothing.

Little Joey has wandered off. I think he's a bit too young to really understand what's going on. He knows Daddy's gone but I'm not sure he grasps the concept of a funeral so I leave the foreman of the yard making his speech about what a good worker Father was, and crouch down to my little brother.

"Hey Lil Joe," I say softly. He's got a stick in his hand and he's poking some leaves, trying to pick them up with it. "What you doing?"

"Tidying," he tells me, very matter-of-factly as I tuck a tuft of his light brown behind his ear for him.

"Yeah? You're doing a good job, buddy. Did you miss me?" I hope I get a better reaction from him than my Mother.

He shrugs. "I guess."

Great. Thanks Joe.

"I missed you so—" I start but he cuts in.

"I saw you!"

"Did you?"

"Yep. You looked scary." He sticks his tongue out as he concentrates on a particularly stubborn leaf.

"Did I?" I gulp, what has he seen?

"Yeah, you had red all over your mouth and a man was all green. You looked like monsters."

I let out a sigh of relief. The interview, it was me with my lipstick and Caesar Flickerman with his 'fashion'.

"That's what people in the Capitol look like buddy. There was a lady who even glued little spiders to my eyes to make my eyelashes look bigger!" I stretch my eyelids up with my fingers and stick my own tongue out.

"Gross!" Joey exclaims loudly and a couple of people at the funeral throw dirty looks at us. Mother doesn't flinch.

I take him by the hand and lead him a little further away.

"Did Daddy think I looked scary too?" I ask gently.

Little Joey shakes his head. "He wasn't home. He was working when I saw. I did it as a secret. Uncle went to find him and me and Mommy had a sleepover at his house. I turned it on when Mommy was talking."

I bring this story up with Uncle Fern later as we're walking to the Victors' Village. Mother and Little Joey are ten or twenty steps ahead of us so I feel safe enough to ask,

"How did he die?"

"Are you sure you want to—"

"Yes." I say determinedly.

"He avoided the Games footage like the plague, stayed at the yard late so that he didn't cross the square when the big screen was playing the days highlights. He didn't want to hear that you'd died."

"He thought I would then," I look at my feet, my own Father didn't believe me strong enough to win.

"Everyone did Jo-Jo, he heard about you falling from the chariot in the Tribute Parade, people were signing themselves up for double shifts convinced that we'd go without a Victor's Haul again."

When a Victor comes home some of their winning bounty comes home with them. Each family in the District gets a little bit extra food over the year courtesy of the _generous _Capitol. Districts like us, who don't win very often, get very excited about the prospect of extra supplies and call it the Victor's Haul.

"Not even that stupid troll Absalom had our faith." Uncle Fern continues. "We underestimated him too. When you won I was at the shop and Hatty, the girl who comes round for the old couple down the street, crashed into the shop screaming, 'She's won, she's won!' Your Mother and I ran straight out into the square to see you being lifted out. I've never seen the town so full of life! Your Father even started to perk up again when we told him, though he must have heard already at the yard. He was still on a late shift when the Game Highlights were broadcast and didn't come home at the expected time. Your Mother and Little Joey stayed above the shop and I went looking for him." Fern lowers his voice. "He was still at the yard, hanging from the rafters. The television was on, he'd been watching the Highlights."

I stop and grab my Uncle's arm.

"Do you think…do you know he did it to himself?"

He looks around him and his voice becomes less than a whisper against my cheek.

"I cut him down Johanna. I cut him down and carried him home. No one saw him. 24 hours later on a national broadcast Caesar Flickerman is telling you he's dead."

"Snow told me Father killed himself, how would he know unless…"

My uncle presses his finger to my lips.

"_That_ is not a conversation for here or anywhere…yet." _Yet?_

We continue walking. He asks me about the Capitol, about the food, about the other Victors.

"Did you meet Sandy from District 4? I always liked her, she's a looker," he winks at me.

"Eww. No. The other Victors gave me some space. I met Finnick Odair though," I can't help the smile that spreads across my face when I mention his name.

"Oh Johanna, I didn't think you'd be one for girly crushes. Did he sign a poster for you to kiss every night?" He jabs me with his elbow.

"Shut up! I'll get one from Sandy for you to kiss every night. You can put it up in the shop and ask people if they've met your new girlfriend!" I give him a full-on shove and he almost falls into a ditch.

"Come here you little…" He regains his balance and grabs me in a headlock, rubbing a fist into my scrappy hair.

Ahead, a young, excited shout calls back to us. We've reached the Victors' Village.

There is a motorcar parked outside one of the enormous houses and Egor waves to us from the wooden porch.

"Hello neighbours!" he calls out.

Little Joey waves back.

"My name's Joey!" He shouts.

"Hello Joey, do you like cake Joey?" Egor beckons him over when he nods enthusiastically even though I'm pretty sure he's never had cake before.

Joey looks up at Mother for permission and she purses her lips before nodding once.

He pounds up the wooden porch steps and follows Egor inside. Blight crosses their path and holds up a gold bag.

"Think you forgot something!"

I'd forgotten about my Capitol keepsakes that I'd stashed in Gaia's bag. He tosses it to me and I immediately open it to get something out.

"Mother look, I kept it safe while I was away." I turn around to show her the pinecone she'd given me before I was taken to the train after the Reaping. She's not there. She's wandered off towards one of the empty houses. Uncle Fern had told me that the day after I'd been lifted from the arena, Peacekeepers had arrived to 'help' Mother and Little Joey move to the Victors' Village and they had already been living in one of the houses. I had hoped to go into our new house as a family though.

A family without my Father of course, and although Mother was here, it didn't feel like she was with us. Or at least, she wasn't with me.

I look at Uncle Fern for help but all he can do is look sympathetic and shrug.


	32. Muddy Places

**Chapter Thirty-Two- Muddy Places.**

Six months living at home is a struggle. I spend every night in my new luxurious bedroom, thinking about my Father and his death, and remaining completely dry-eyed.

I wish I could say the same for Mother. She cries every day. She doesn't go to help Uncle Fern at the butchers anymore. She stays in her room.

I walk Little Joey to school and pick him up every day until he asks me not to anymore because the other children tell him that it's my fault that Father is dead. Instead I walk him to the shop and Uncle Fern takes him the rest of the way, then walks home with him at the end of the day. Fern makes dinner for us every day and I overpay him for the meat he brings us.

When I shop, the people stare at me and serve me briskly so that I'll leave and they can gossip about me.

My birthday falls a couple of weeks before the start of the Victory Tour. I receive a set of butchers knives from Uncle Fern, with a note saying '_Because you never know when you might need them'_, a roll of toilet paper from Egor, a picture of me from little Joey and a bottle of amber liquid from Blight. I also receive a red envelope that smells of roses, delivered by a Peacekeeper. Nothing from Mother.

The tension between us comes to a head that night after Uncle Fern has gone home and Joey is in bed.

Mother finally shows her face to fill a glass with water from the tap in the kitchen. She doesn't see me and almost puts me in the dark on her way out until I call out to her to leave the light on. She starts, surprised, and turns to see me sat at the 'breakfast bar', Egor calls it, running my fingers over Uncle Fern's knives, a half empty bottle of amber liquid in my hand. I've opened the red envelope and seen that it's my next 'date', arranged for during the Victory Tour when I'm back in the Capitol.

"I think you should put that down," she tells me, nodding at the bottle. "And put those away." The knives.

I've been there for a couple of hours, undisturbed, because my Mother can't get herself out of bed for her daughter's birthday meal and _now_ she decides to tell me what to do.

"Oh shut up Mom and go back to bed," I snap at her.

I see a flash of her old self in her eyes when she folds her arms across her chest and glares at me,

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"Why not? You haven't spoken to me at all!" I take another swig from the bottle.

"You are sixteen years old Johanna Mason and I am still your Mother!"

"I'm seventeen!" I scream at her and bury one of the knives into the wood of the counter. "It's my birthday Mom!"

She takes a big step back and I feel a spark of satisfaction when I see the fear in her face. Just like being back in the arena. Oh goodness, am I reminiscing about the arena with a fond memory? At least there I felt like I was in control, I had a plan and I had a purpose. I wasn't anyone's puppet in there; nobody thought enough of me to use me in there. I had a loving family to get back to. Now I have no Father, and a Mother, who can't look at me, that I've just screamed and brandished a knife at.

I panic that I've ruined everything now, and I drop the bottle to the floor. It smashes and spits glass at my bare feet. I don't feel it and slump back into my chair.

"Did you even watch the Game?"

"I've seen enough," Mother says tight-lipped, still keeping the space between us. "I didn't have to see my daughter going through it all."

"But you don't know what I went through!"

"I know you killed a twelve-year-old girl."

"I did that to come home Mom!"

"And you disappeared into a tree with a boy who then proposed to you. Just what was going on in there Johanna?"

"Oh Mom," It's too painful to argue with her. "Just go back to bed. I'm sorry that I'm not your Princess anymore, I'm sorry that I'm just a murdering, drinking whore of a daughter." I grab the knives and push past her, slamming the back door behind me.

I stretch my bleeding bare feet on the central green of the Victors' Village, the mud is soothing on my sore skin, and I run for the forest. It's dark and I can hear the sound of a fox on the hunt in the distance but I don't stop. I wait until I feel completely surrounded by the trees, not a speck of human life apart from myself. It's much colder here than it had been in the arena and I'm only wearing pants and a t-shirt. I stick the knives into the trunk of a nearby tree and use them as foot and handholds to get up into the lowest branch. When I get up there I bring my knees up to my chest to keep warm. Who knew when I was comfortable in the arena because it was similar to home, that I'd then feel comfortable at home because it was like the arena.

Through some leaves I catch a glimpse of the stars and think of Red. He hadn't _really_ proposed, he was delirious from loss of blood and didn't know what he was saying. I can't talk to Mother about it though. She's closed down to me now. I've lost her too.

I drift off to sleep in the tree and do not dream for the first time in six months.

Over the following week I spend my time making a tree house in the woods. Little Joey comes to help me after school, bringing snacks from Egor's house, and passing me up planks of woods that I'd cut down and shaped during the day. He's getting strong for a six-year-old. I tell him that he and his friends can play in it sometimes, as long as there's an adult around, but really I'm building it to escape to.

When my Prep Team arrive on the Friday before the start of the Victory Tour I am subjected to the same rigorous cleaning that I'd experienced in the Remake Center. I have countless baths and it feels like several layers of skin are stripped from me only to be built up again by their lotions and potions.

Gaia and another woman, our new Escort, appear on Saturday. They are, apparently, already best friends, despite Gaia being about thirty years older than the new Escort. She introduces herself as Lalaney Lilac.

On Sunday morning Gaia spreads out a square of midnight blue velvet on my bed and cuts a hole in it. "Put that over your head," she tells me and I do. Scissors in hand, she cuts it around my shape and twists it around my body, pinning it in here, tucking it under there and with a piece of light blue string, ties it up at my shoulders, making straps.

I am forbidden from removing it as Gaia says that if we unpin it, it will never look the same again. It is the ultimate bespoke dress, which is _very_ 'in' right now in the Capitol.

The camera crew shows up Sunday afternoon and sets up in our living room. Little Joey sits on my bed while Gaia paints my face with make-up and he watches in horror as she glues the 'spiders' to my eyelids. She takes quite a shine to him, as does everyone who visits, and when he asks if he can have a go with the red paint, she paints an intricate swirly pattern on the side of his face.

"I had a little boy," Gaia says as she paints on Joey. "He went to stay with his Daddy one weekend."

"Didn't you live with his Daddy?" Innocent Joey asks.

"No, his Daddy lived somewhere else. Anyway they went on an adventure one weekend and had an accident. My little boy never came back to me. He was six."

"I'm six!"

I see a shining in Gaia's eyes, "Yeah? You know I thought you might be. Here would you like to see something special Joey?"

She empties her make-up bag for him, showing him all the sparkling pencils and smoky powders. It's a touching moment, and I start to see why Gaia showed Absalom favouritism over me, why she's been a stylist for the children of the Hunger Games for so many years.

I leave them to it upstairs and go down for my television interview. This one won't be live though and I discover that means it takes four times longer to record. Lalaney asks me what my new talent is. Since us Victors have more free time on our hands it's expected that we develop new skills to keep us busy.

I think about my tree house and ask if it's possible to move the interview outside.

It is so worth making the trip the forest, just to see the Capitol crew picking through the now muddy ground in their ridiculous heels and crisp suits. Eventually Lalaney ties up her wavy lavender hair, takes off her shoes and walks straight through the mud, calling,

"Give _me_ the camera, we'll go on ahead!"

She is only in her early thirties I think, but she must have connections for her to have been given this job. She sets up the camera in position so that when the rest of the crew arrive, they just have to press record.

"How did you get this job then?" I decide to ask unashamedly.

"I escorted District 4 this year and last year, so I've done a Victory Tour already." She gets a candy bar-shaped electrical device out of her pocket and starts tapping at it.

"Annie Cresta right?"

"Right."

"How's she doing?"

"Better, much better. She might even make it to your reception in District 4 last I heard. How are you doing?" She raises an eyebrow and it throws me slightly, why is she interested in how I'm doing?

"Umm, I'm fine. I'm…" I point at the tree house, "…building tree houses for the kids in the District. I'm a reformed girl." Now I have her full attention. She leans on the camera tripod.

"Reformed? Reformed from what?"

"You know, I'm nice now."

"Who says you're not nice?"

"Everyone, haven't you heard? My own Mother thinks I'm a vindictive murderer."

"Because of your Dad?" She drops her eyes. "I was absolutely distraught to hear about…his death. It's so unfair for you."

"Life's not fair, especially here." I think about the empty mansions in the Victors' Village and the families living five to a bed in other parts of the District. I decide to change the subject. "I bet you can't wait to go back to the filtered air of the non-muddy Capitol."

"I don't mind, there are plenty of muddy parts of the Capitol if you know where to look." Don't I know it. "My daughter finds them all on her way home from school." Oh she means actual mud. "Can I have a go in your tree house?"

I've replaced the knife footholds with a wooden ladder, which she shimmies up like a pro.

"It's just a platform with walls at the moment, if I use anymore wood I need permission from Petruchio Calvus so I'm not taking from Panem's stores," I explain to her, quoting directly from the official who came to inspect my build on Thursday.

"Well I love it, and so would my little girl. I'm sure it'll be no problem with Petruchio." She reappears at the door to the 'house' with her device in her hand. "I just sent his secretary a message, you'll be cleared for…tree clearing by the time you get back from the tour."

I almost don't believe her. Why is she doing this to help me? Why is she climbing a tree? Is she my real Escort or is she a spy?

"Tell me straight up, are you for real?" I stare up at her.

She frowns. "What makes you say that?"

"You're offering to do something that's remotely helpful so are being the complete opposite of what I know Escorts to be like."

"What a good job you've got a new Escort then," she replies, sliding front-ways down the ladder with ease and a smile on her magenta lips.


	33. Seeing The World For What It Is

Chapter Thirty-Three- Seeing The World For What It Is

Little Joey and Uncle Fern come with us to the train station to see us off. Egor has been suffering with a chest infection so he cannot accompany us on this trip.

Our first stop will be District 12, the second longest journey possible across Panem. We have to go through the Capitol to be rerouted up to the coal-mining district.

My 'appearance' in District 12 is a complete flop. They stare at me with gaunt faces and I feel ridiculous. They are all so thin, even the wealthier ones that have nicer clothes. Here I am stood in front of the starving masses in my tight red leather pants and fitted blazer that flaunt my new healthy curves and enhanced chest.

We eat a meal with the Mayor of District 12 and his family. Blight goes to meet up with Haymitch, the only District 12 Victor, and neither of them return for the meal.

The Mayor is a tall, balding man but seems friendly enough. His daughter is a few years younger than me, maybe 13? She's very quiet and avoids eye contact. The daughter of our Mayor is a prissy thing who surrounds herself with equally prissy companions, I can't stand them. In fact I think it may have been her skipping rope that I cut in half. This girl (Marge?) is far more likeable in her plain cotton dress and unassuming presence. She wears a beautiful gold bird-shaped brooch though and I compliment her on it over dinner.

"It's a family heirloom," The Mayor explains. "From my wife's side of the family." He puts his hand on his wife's shoulder and she nods tightly.

"Well it's absolutely stunning," I say. "It's a mockingjay isn't it? The bird inside the hoop I mean."

The Mayor's wife looks surprised.

"They make nests in the trees of District 7 during springtime," I explain. "They drive everyone mad because they copy the sound of the axes so the woods are alive with the sounds of 'chop' '_chop' _'chop' _'chop'_. Then the foreman expects the workers to come back with twice as much wood because he's heard all the chopping."

The girl lets out a tiny giggle, and then pushes her loose blonde hair behind her ear self-consciously. It seems to me that there's not usually much giggling that goes on in this house.

District 11 does not receive me well, as can be expected. I murdered both their tributes. When I stand on the stage outside their Justice Building they glare silently at me. The whole crowd is surrounded by a ring of Peacekeepers in their white uniforms, a stark contrast to the typically dark-skinned people of District 11 in their dirty, grey work overalls. I give my speech about how grateful I am to them for receiving me and I'm sorry for their losses. I'm not though. If I wasn't being so closely watched, and perhaps if I had a weapon in my hand ready, I'd remind them about their crazed 12-year-old who threw a knife at me and tried to strangle me.

I immediately chastise myself for this thought. _This_ is why people don't like you, I think and look with sadness across at Rye and Kernel's grieving families on a little platform to the left of the stage.

District 10 doesn't like me because I was the reason their boy was killed by the Careers. He was the one that came across me stealing the funnel and I knocked him unconscious leaving him to their mercy.

District 9 are uninterested, it's the end of their harvest season in the Grain District so they look tired and ultimately like they'd rather be doing something else.

District 8 is a little more welcoming. I stand on their hastily prepared stage and look out at the industrial town. There is a foul smell in the air coming from the factories belching out fumes in the distance. A stream runs orange down the road, polluted by the dyes they use in the District 8 Textiles Industry. The houses, from what I can see are run-down tenements, some with windows filled with cardboard.

The people are overworked, some of them with dyed skin from working at the factories but there is some cheering and a lighter atmosphere at dinner. Their Victors shake my hand and welcome me to their home. I can't remember their names, but one of them is heavily pregnant and raves about her two existing children.

We skip District 7, leaving it until last for our second 'Homecoming' Celebration.

6 and 5 don't make much of an impression; I am just counting down the days until we arrive in District 4.

The sun is shining when the train pulls into the District 4 station. I get into the usual rigmarole of shaking hands, smiling, car ride through the lined streets, listening to a speech by the Mayor. The difference is the sound of waves crashing on a shore, the smell of salt and fish in the air, and a couple of friendly faces in the crowd.

In front of the stage, there are the two small platforms that hold the families of the 'fallen' Tributes. The one to my left undoubtedly holds Mary's family: Mother, Father and older brother, all broad in stature and her brother has the marks of the same acne problem Mary had suffered from. They look like proud people. Her father tips his head at me respectfully and I feel relieved. They don't blame me for killing her, they are just glad that I ended her suffering.

To my right is one woman on her own, Red's mother and Finnick's sister. Finnick cannot stand with her because he is in his place behind me at the back of the stage with the other Victors, so she stands there little and alone. She has the same green eyes as Finnick but that's where the similarities end, no wonder it took me so long to realise that he and Red were related. She has chestnut brown hair with red strands that shine in the sun. Her hair hangs dead straight around her face, it is thin too so her ears poke through. She has the same square jaw and dark eyebrows as Red though.

I give my well-rehearsed speech, same as I gave it in Districts 12 to 5, but this time I add a section about Mary's courage and Red's selflessness. I feel an aura of respect here in District 4, something I haven't even felt from my own District.

At the seafood banquet later in the evening, Finnick arrives late with two women on his arm.

"Now I've paid a lot of money to get you invited here so don't embarrass me," he tells his sister strictly once he knows he's in earshot of me.

I grin and give him a big hug.

"So good to see you again." I squeeze him tightly. He's got that same comforting smell around him, doused with a little more salt this time.

"What happened to my phone call? I waited in for six months!" he exclaims loudly, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. "This is my sister." He puts an arm around her shoulder. "My big but little sister, Finnola."

"Hello, nice to meet you," I offer my hand to shake hers, which she takes lightly. Her hands feel bony and sharp in mine. My hands feel positively pudgy next to hers. "Finnick and Finnola?" I try to keep my face straight.

Finnola explains for me, "Our parents only planned on having one child and I was going to be Finnick if I was a boy so fifteen years later when they had him," she nods her head at Finnick, "they just went with the name they already knew they liked."

"Yeah they decided they hadn't yet achieved perfection so they had another go," Finnick winks and his sister elbows him in the stomach. "Ow, ow! You're so bony! Stop it."

"Both of you stop it," says a quiet voice from the other side of Finnick. Annie Cresta. She is about the same age as me and has the same long flowing dark hair that I would have had if I hadn't chopped it all off. She has a hand firmly entangled in Finnick's and the other is combing gently through the ends of her hair.

"I didn't think I'd have to be your Mom tonight," she adds, a little smile playing on her otherwise fragile face.

"Aww but she started it," Finnick whines and Finnola elbows him one more time before unhooking herself from Finnick and linking to me.

"Come on, Johanna, have you ever had octopus?" She leads me away, towards the table full of the 'bounty of sea', as she calls it.

She has her brother's quick wit and popularity, the other people at the party all seem to know her and ask her how she's been getting on. We catch a private moment, just her and me on a balcony outside that overlooks the sea. The sun is just setting and the vibrant colours reflect in the water making it seem like the whole ocean is on fire.

"I'm really sorry that I didn't do more for him," I say softly, looking out over the blazing water.

"It's ok. There was nothing more you could have done," she replies. "At least he didn't die alone." I hear her suck in a shaky breath before she continues. "That's what Finnick keeps telling me to say. Honestly, what sort of world do we live in where the positive perspective is 'At least my baby didn't die alone'? 'At least my baby died in the arms of another child and not on his own stuffed down a cave or something'."

She's angry, but not at me so I give her hand a squeeze. She replies by pulling me into her arms and burying her face into my shoulder.

"Thank you for what you said to him Johanna, for saying that he was a credit to his family. I never told him enough how proud I was of him. When I saw him before he got on the train I told him that I thought he was stupid for volunteering in his last year of eligibility. He wasn't stupid, he was brave."

"It's my fault. I should have left him alone. Mary would have died eventually and he would have been away. I shouldn't have interfered."

"No, no!" She hugs me tighter. "You can't think like that. What ifs, what if he'd been ill that day and didn't feel like he could do better than that limping boy? What if someone stronger had been reaped instead? What if Mary hadn't got hurt in the bloodbath? There are so many things that could have been different but it wasn't. I stayed with Annie while it was on, she said that sometimes things happen for a reason; it just takes a while to work it out. He never would have met you would he?" She pulls away and holds me by the shoulders, looking right into my eyes. "You would have made a good daughter-in-law you know." She tries to tuck a tuft of my hair behind my ear but I feel it spring back up again. "You're beautiful. I'm going to be so jealous of the woman whose son actually does get to marry you."

I can feel a blush coming on, "I'm not sure I'll find anyone as perfect as yours."

Finnola claps her hands together and closes her eyes as though she's forcing the tears back into her eyes. She puts her hands on either side of my face and kisses my forehead.

"Oh!" comes another voice from inside the party. "Mason why do you feel that you have to seduce every member of my family?" Finnick comes out to join us with a glass in each hand, which he passes to both of us. "Have you met Mags? She's been like a mother to me I think she feels pretty lonely at times why don't you go chat her up?"

"Don't listen Johanna, he's just jealous that he hasn't had any attention for a while." Finnola wipes her eyes dry with the tips of her fingers. "Why are you here by the way?" she asks Finnick.

"Annie needs you," he tells her. "I think she's just getting bored of me to be honest."

"Ok." Finnola gives my hand one more squeeze before she rejoins the party to find Annie.

"How're you doing?" Finnick asks me, hopping up to sit on the concrete balustrade around the balcony.

"Not bad," I reply, scuffing my feet on the floor.

"Don't lie. How's your Mom?" He pats the concrete next to him and I jump up to sit with him.

"Not great," I admit. "She hates me, hasn't spoken to me since I waved a knife at her a couple of weeks ago, didn't really speak to me before that. She thinks that I'm the reason Father's dead."

"Nice, and are you?"

I lower my voice like Uncle Fern did when he told me, "I don't think so, my Uncle cut him down from the rafters, and no one saw him hanging…"

"But somehow everyone knows he killed himself? Hmm, I see your point." For no apparent reason he slides off the balustrade and stands directly in front of me. "Put your arms around my neck."

"Is this because you haven't had any attention for a while?"

He rolls his eyes and sets his jaws, "Just do it Mason." So I do.

He presses his cheek against mine.

"Why do you think Snow would have had him killed?" he breathes into my ear.

"I don't know, because I tricked him and he doesn't like to not know what's going on?"

"Exactly, when I came out he didn't like that I'd made so many 'friends' so my Mother suffered a heart attack, in the middle of the day, when no one was around, and when she should have been at work down at the docks. That's why I tried to hide Red, never went into town with him, made him hide below deck until we were in open water when we took the boat out together. I didn't want the same thing to happen to him, a mysterious death when no one's around. You _have_ to behave or it won't stop with your Father. Lalaney is your new Escort?"

I nod.

"You can trust her, to some extent. She knows about the 'darker side' to being a Victor, she's seen me go off on enough 'dates' and she was kind to Annie last year which is more that I can say for most of the Capitol."

"I hate them," I whisper. "Give me an axe and a clear shot and we'll all feel safe again. No more children having nightmares before a reaping, no more 'dates'."

"I think it'll be difficult to get you an axe _and_ a clear shot," I feel his face smile against mine.

"Umm Finnick?" Finnola is back. "Annie's not…err…feeling very well. I think we have to go."

This time I feel his face fall. He lets out a long breath and there's obvious upset in his eyes.

"What happened?" He turns to his sister.

"Blight…I think that's his name,"

"Oh what now?" I sigh. He'd been in trouble during the District 9 party for spilling his drink on a precious Harvest symbol that everyone loved despite the fact that it was old and ugly.

"He's said something to her, I don't know what it was…it could have been anything really."

"I'm sorry Johanna, we're going to have to leave. I'll see you in a few months for the next circus." He gives me a quick hug and adds, "Remember what I said, behave," before dashing back into the building.

"And I'll see you…on TV," Finnola says also hugging me. "Don't forget to use that telephone though."

I nod and say my own goodbye. I take a couple more minutes by myself looking out at the water. The stars have come out and I look for the north star that Red had shown me. I can't remember what he called it but I see the set of stars that point towards it, Ursula something.

Eventually I take a breath and return to the party. I speak to Mags and Sandy. I'm tempted to bring up my Uncle's little crush but before I get the chance, I feel a hand on my arm.

"It's time to go Johanna," Lalaney is on her electronic device again, tapping away with her bright yellow fingernails. "If we're going to be in District 3 by lunch we've got to go now. Sorry ladies."

I apologise to Mags and Sandy and say my goodbyes to everyone at the party.

Lalaney helps me get Blight back on the train, by all accounts he was mortified to have upset Annie that he decided the only way to fix it was to carry on drinking.

We get him into bed with some difficulty since we are both quite small in frame.

"Did you have to do that much when you were working for District 4?" I puff, out of breath.

"Can't say I did." She bids her goodnight and then stops. "Oh I forgot, Finnick gave me this to give to you." She passes me a gold necklace with a heavy pendant at the end.

Why has he given me jewellery? I'm not really a trinkets person. I toss it over in my fingers as I make my way to my room and by the time I put my hand on the door handle, I've found the hinge. It's a locket. Sitting on my bed, I squeeze it open with my fingernails and my breath catches in my throat.

It's Red. Not his Training Score headshot, not him in his Tribute Parade costume, it's him on Finnick's boat leaning his back against the mast, shirtless, heaving at an enormous net. There's a broad, proud smile on his face as he drags in his catch, whatever it was. I fall in love again and hold the locket in my hand as I fall asleep.


	34. Perverts and Sadists

**Chapter Thirty-Four- Perverts and Sadists**

District 2 is hostile of course. There's a whole host of Peacekeepers in the crowd, though that might have more to do with the fact that District 2 provide a vast majority of the Peacekeeping force.

Granite and Chantal's families don't even look at me.

The Victors keep themselves to themselves at the party and I keep a careful eye on Blight, an upset Victor here might result in a concussion or worse.

District 1 is unbearable. As I stand there staring out at the mollycoddled masses, I can't help but think about the almost emaciated in District 12, the dyed in District 8 and the weary in District 9. I meet the brother and sister Victor pair, Cashmere and Gloss, at the party and they talk to me like I'm something they've found on the bottom of their gold lined shoes. The other Victors prance around sporting their diamond pendants in the shape of a 'V' that I'm told the Mayor presents them with on their return. Garnet, a fiery red haired Victor, asks me what District 7 Victors get.

"A handshake," I tell her. "And I chose not to take mine."

Then it's back to the bright lights and cosmetics of the Capitol, back to the Training Centre, back to the man-eating bed and back to my 'date'.

At 6pm I am in a car on my way wearing a high-necked dark pink shift dress with a white collar and white pantyhose.

By 10pm I am back in my room, my tights torn, a shining bruise spreading across my cheek.

He was an ex-Peacekeeper captain, old and bitter. He lectured me about how easy the Districts have it now that they get their extra food as part of the Victor's Haul. He scorned the lumber industry and called the people of District 7 'blockheads who are only good for swinging axes'. I couldn't keep quiet and I told him that Peacekeepers are only smart enough to follow other people's orders, so he hit me.

At 10:30 Lalaney brings me another red envelope. The ex-Peacekeeper has booked me again for tomorrow night. I hope he hits me on the other cheek next time, my left one smarts terribly.

Lalaney returns with ice wrapped in cloth to put against my face.

"Here," she says. "You are being safe aren't you Johanna?" There's an air of concern in her voice.

I chuckle, "Does it look like I'm being safe?" I flash her my bruise again.

"I don't mean like that, I mean…the other kind of safe." She deliberately looks me up and down.

"Oh…err…I don't know." I never really thought about it. My hand finds it's way to my stomach. Could there be something in there? Could Malcolm or the Peacekeeper have left me with something? No not Malcolm, I'd have known by now but why hadn't I been thinking about that sort of thing?

"I take it that's a no then?" Lalaney says with a sigh.

"How…what can I do?" My eyes are wide in an almost panic, there's nothing I can do is there? Am I just destined to give birth to the spawn of an animal that pays to tear my pantyhose off? Does Finnick have countless numbers of children running around the Capitol?

"Don't worry, I can get you some medicine for you to take that will stop…anything happening."

I try to smile but my face hurts.

"Can you get me some medicine to stop the envelopes from coming?"

She flicks me a wry smile, "I can, but there will be some unfortunate side-effects."

"Like death," I finish for her. "I'm making a habit out of taking up hobbies where death is a side-effect."

"They'll tire of you, don't worry." Lalaney gives my back a comforting rub. "I hear Cashmere's settling down now, she used to love the Capitol life, was always out with different men every night. Since you won though she's hardly been seen out at all."

I frown.

"So you're saying that the dirty old men will forget about me as soon as there's another pretty girl to fawn over?"

"Well I'm not promising it but…" she tails off.

I think about it. How long can it be before another pretty girl wins? I think of the past few winners: Annie (no she doesn't come to the Capitol because no one wants a head-case), Cassio from 5 (a boy), Greta from 2 (a terribly masculine looking girl), Rhodi from 1 (a boy), Malachi from 1 (a boy), Finnick, Gloss from 1 (a boy) and then Cashmere…that's 8 years!

"Just stick it out for the next decade then?" I murmur disappointed with my own realisation.

"Essentially. You never know you might have a terrible accident that scars you horrifically," Lalaney says, with some jest in her tone.

"Here's hoping," I reply seriously.

I spend the night staring at the ceiling, thinking about ways I could damage myself enough to make me less desirable but not too much that I…well die. It's only as the sun rises that I realise just how dark my thoughts have gotten and I reprimand myself. I'm a survivor, it's pretty much my profession now, why am I giving in so easily? I'll play along with their perversions but I'll make sure I earn a few bruises along the way. I'm not going to simper and giggle. I'm going to be exactly who they think I am, that way if they complain about me everyone will just say, 'It's Johanna Mason, what did you expect?'

I get a couple of hours sleep before Gaia shakes me awake. I moan with tiredness, and then moan in pain.

"What have you done now?" she exclaims when she sees my face.

"I started a bar brawl," I reply sardonically.

"Well I wish you wouldn't," she says, either ignoring or not sensing the sarcasm. She immediately whips out her make-up bag and lays out her skin colour dusts and powders. "This is going to be a small nightmare to cover up for your interview tonight."

"It wasn't exactly a trip to the playground getting it," I bite back. "Can you fix it?"

"Yes I can but it'll take time."

"Can you do it while I lay here?"

"Err, I guess so."

"Great, then wake me up when you're done."

I don't really go back off to sleep but the sweeping feeling of the brushes on my face is relaxing and time does slip by quickly.

"Ok that's it," she says with a final flourish. "Flawless once more."

"Oh there's definitely flaws," I say sitting up and examining myself in the mirror. It's amazing, there's absolutely no sign of the purple smear at all.

"Now some finishing touches." Gaia combs my lashes with black and flicks red onto my lips again.

My dress is another bespoke red satin wrap-around effort so Gaia pins me into it at the last minute before we get in the elevator to take us down to the stage which has been set up in front of the Training Centre for the interview with Caesar Flickerman.

Caesar is still sporting his neon green hair, lips and eyes, the theme for this year's Hunger Games. Some of the stagehands are already talking about the bets they've made on what colour he'll be next year. One of them asks me what I think. I give them a few coins and guess powder blue.

"Lovely to see you again Johanna," people say to me as thought we've already met. Have we already met? I don't recognise them. I murmur noncommittally to them in reply.

Before I know it lights are coming on, the crowd waiting in the streets start screaming. It is a hundred times louder than the reception in any of the Districts. It's got a hundred times the excitement and a hundred times the enthusiasm.

Caesar enters stage left and the crowd goes crazy. He introduces some clips of the previous stops on my tour. It looks a lot more interesting up there on the big screens than it felt actually doing it. There's a shot of some well-fed beautiful blonde girls in District 1 smiling and waving as they wait in the crowd for me, then a clip of the procession down the street in District 4, me shaking the hand of the Mayor in District 12, talking with the animated pregnant Victor from 8, hugging Finnick. There's even a still image of me smiling stood next to Cashmere, not sure how they managed to find that one.

Caesar introduces me and I'm pushed out on stage. He greets me warmly as usual and asks me what I've been up to. I reel out my speech about building tree houses in the forest near the Victors' Village for the District 7 children to play in. I also joke about making some for adults and opening a vacation resort. Caesar gets very excited and says that he wants to book three weeks next summer.

"It might be a nicer alternative to vacationing at the old arena sites," I blurt out. Oops.

Caesar quickly diverts to another topic.

"So which was your favourite place to visit on the tour?"

"Well nowhere is ever as good as home." I swallow my pride and add, "But the Capitol is even better."

The cheers are roaring, jewellery is glowing and being waved in the air and banners are being shaken. Caesar thanks me again and says he can't wait to see me as a Mentor next year and see how I'll coach the next District 7 Tributes.

I'm whisked away immediately to go to the next party, which is back at Snow's mansion with the sponsors and Gamemakers.

My heart is in my mouth for a good portion of the night until I realise that Snow isn't coming. There's a whisper going around that he's sick. I hope he is. I hope he dies. It'll save me the fuss of trying to combine the unlikely opportunities of having an axe and getting a clear shot.

I try to avoid the Gamemakers in the crowd, I can pick them out by their arrogant air. I find pretending to get on with the sponsors a lot easier because at least they are in someway helping the Tributes. I don't manage to avoid the Gamemakers exclusively all night though. One man, with an intricate pattern stencilled into his facial hair, butts in to another person's anecdote to ask me if I have any ideas for next years game.

I suggest, "Perhaps you could set man-eating bunnies on them? Oh no wait you already did that!" and wander away. To their credit, the group I leave behind laugh at me and clap the Gamemaker on the back telling him to find his own ideas for next year.

Sadists.

Lalaney reminds me when it's time to leave for my 'date'. I try to decide whether I'd rather spend the rest of the night with a perverted old man, or these stuck-up sadists.

It's not my choice in the end and I meet the Peacekeeper again. He asks me if I've learnt some manners since last night.

I tell him, explicitly, that I have not.

I get a black eye for my trouble.


	35. Still A Part Of The Nightmare

**A/N Apologies for the lack of updating the last few days. I had last week off work so I got loads done but now I'm back at work sometimes it's tricky trying to get a whole chapter done in an evening. (Also I lost one night when I caught up with the MTV Movie Awards. Yay Hunger Games!). **

**Chapter Thirty-Five- Still A Part Of The Nightmare**

Gaia can cover me in make-up to hide the bruise again, but nothing fixes the fact that my eye won't open properly. Lalaney tells me there's a shot that can reduce the swelling, but it will have go directly into my eye socket. That's a big no to the shot so I'm sent home to District 7 with a squinty eye.

This time I take my handshake from the Mayor and return to the Victors' Village to see that Little Joey and Egor have completely decorated the shedding blossom tree outside our house with toilet paper to celebrate my second homecoming.

"There's plenty more where that came from!" cries Egor, clapping his hands with senile glee as Joey dances around underneath the tissue drapes. It reminds me of a willow tree. I touch the locket around my neck.

I think that being home will be like waking at the end of the nightmare.

Instead, a year and a half later, I wake from my nostalgic dream but still a part of the nightmare. My Tributes, Alder and Camellia, are dead and I'm up straight away to see if the Victors I talked to last night have come through on their promises.

I turn on the television in the living area for the first time since we all sat and watched Alder and Camellia's Tribute Interviews. Nearly all the Tributes are still sleeping, all except the patrolling District 1 boy. If my mental map of the arena is correct, he can't be far away from the District 2 pair, with any luck he's stumble upon them and they'll eliminate his threat. He's in the trees, always looking skyward.

The door to the suite opens and Lalaney bustles in carrying shopping bags. Her daughter has been sick so she's been torn between being here and being with her.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here yesterday when Alder…" she tails off and drops the bags on the floor to give me a hug.

I accept it but shake my head.

"It's going to be fine. He's going to be sorry," I say, not taking my eyes off the television screen.

When she pulls back from the embrace I notice that she's left something in my lap. A red envelope.

"I'm sorry, the Mail Carrier gave me that downstairs to bring up."

I toss it to one side. My Tributes are dead, I much preferred it when I could think that maybe this 'date' could lead to more sponsor money to keep them alive, now there's just sleaze.

Just before midday there's a rain of parachutes in the arena. Some Mentors have sent at least 3 of the silver lifesavers.

Lalaney and I lean forward in our seats. The District 1 boy is obviously confused. He's glaring around the arena furiously. He doesn't know what to do. He heads for the parachutes falling nearest to him. The District 2 parachutes.

There's a scuffle, a few sounds of metal clashing with metal, and then the cry of a wounded animal. The District 2 girl sustains a gash to her face, part of her cheek has been slashed right through, but more importantly the District 1 boy has lost his left arm. He limps off, bleeding heavily. The District 2 boy chases him but loses him in the foliage.

He gets his own parachute, probably sent in panic by Cashmere or Gloss who will know that it's just short wait until he bleeds to death now. The parachute contains a bandage to make a tourniquet. The Loggers in District 7 all too frequently have to deal with suddenly detached limbs so, in school from a young age, we are taught about the lifesaving properties of tourniquets.

He tries to tie the bandage around the bloody stump, stupid idiot.

"He's fading out," Lalaney says softly.

It doesn't bring Alder or Camellia back to life watching this boy die. It doesn't even make me feel better about my Tributes death. If anything it makes me feel worse, like their deaths were a waste.

Then the screen shows Celeste from District 4 applying a pink ointment to her face, and I realise what his death means. She will live, even if it's only a day longer.

She actually lasts 3 more days before she runs into the hulking mass of muscle that appears to be Demetrius from District 11. He cuts her down with no hesitation, it really does Celeste a disservice to die that easily.

Demetrius in turn is killed by the District 2 pair two days after that. The girl from 6 dies of a chest infection from the cold air that same day. Another day later the District 2 pair have a falling out and they decide to split the next day. The District 2 boy beheads the girl in her sleep before the sun rises.

Three boys left, another year without a female winner.

The boys are rounded up by mutts that look like lizards with human hands and are driven together beside a lake. District 3 takes a couple of throwing knives to the back and sinks quickly to the ground as Titan flies past him. He immediately clashes with District 2, who also appears all guns blazing. They fight for twenty minutes and both sustain pretty serious injuries. Titan's has an eye gouged out and District 2 has lost plenty of blood from a slice in his thigh. They are both tiring but battling on. Eventually District 2 cuts through Titan's gut and it's over. It's all over, apart from Titan's knife sticking in District 2's chest. With his last breath, he twists the knife and plucks it out, leaving a visible hole in 2's lungs. Titan's cannon fires and is quickly followed by District 2's. The whole nation frowns, confused. The screens all over Panem show their two prone bodies and then swoop across the lake. Claudius Templesmith announces that Byte Bilson from District 3 is the winner of the 73rd Annual Hunger Games. He is wheezing breath in through damaged lungs but by leaving the knives in, he's stayed alive long enough to outlive Titan and District 2.

I meet him after the showing of his Game Highlights and he seems like a nice enough young man who genuinely can't work out how he managed to win.

At the Victory party I wear a sparkling white one-shoulder dress and am accompanied by my 'date', the son of an old school friend of President Snow's. He's not too bad as far as public appearance 'dates' go, he tells me who people are and even lets me in on why he thinks each person is meeting with the President himself. I learn from him that District 8 had a little trouble last week when a couple of tenements fell down and the survivors stormed the Justice Building to occupy there instead. Extra Peacekeepers have been put in place there.

I'm so enthralled by this gossip that I don't notice the gold-haired woman until she has pushed between us.

"President Snow would like a moment with you Miss Mason."

"Right now?" I ask and she nods. I give my 'date' a genuine apology and follow her.

What can I have done this time? Maybe someone's complained about me. Maybe District 7 has had a mini-uprising, though that's a little much to expect, those people wouldn't uprise if a fire was burning through their chairs.

As well as the smell of roses, there's an additional metallic smell seeping out of Snow's mouth when he smiles his sickening smile at me.

He doesn't say much.

"I know Johanna." He's cleaning his fingers of grease from the finger food being served on a crisp white handkerchief.

"What do you know?" I say, helping myself to a deep-fried chicken wing. I've gotten cocky since I've learnt a few secrets myself.

"That you've been meddling when there was no need." He reaches across and holds my arm away so I can't put the food into my mouth.

How could he have heard about that guy telling me the gossip already? It was only happening three minutes ago.

"I told you I'm the one that makes the plans here Miss Mason." He takes the chicken wing out of my hand and drops it into the nearby trashcan. He then leans closer to me and I can smell that the metallic accent is now a profound scent of blood. "There will be consequences. Your train leaves tomorrow."

I'm a little stunned. What consequences? What _have_ I done?

Two thick, meaty hands clamp down on my shoulders and 'help' me on my way out.

On my way back to my 'date' I pass Finnick, who is following the gold-haired assistant. He looks worried and it clicks in my mind. It was the parachutes. Snow doesn't like that we spoke to the other Mentors and made a plan as a group. The whole existence of the Districts is down to the 'divide and conquer' method of rule.

I don't get much sleep that night. Despite being entertaining at the party, my 'date' is rough and I've got bruises down the sides of my legs, making lying on my side painful. So, I spend the night staring at the ceiling, picking out invisible shapes in the darkness.

I sleep a little on the train but am still exhausted by the time we pull into the District 7 station. Egor and Little Joey meet us in the square. They've become firm friends since I've been taking Egor's place as a Mentor in the Capitol.

Blight is hungover and sick as a dog but if it's possible Egor and Joey look worse than him. My stomach flips.

"What?" I gulp. "What is it?"

Little Joey's eyes fill with tears and he grabs both my hands.

"Uncle Fern's dead Jo-Jo."

I fall to my knees and hold him tightly.

"What happened?" I say to Egor who smiles sadly at me.

"I don't know, he fell I think. He was at the bottom of the stairs in his shop this morning."

An accident when no one else was around.

My mind immediately goes to Mother. She was unstable over Father's death two years ago, I'm afraid of what she'll do now after her brother's mysterious demise.

I pick Joey up, he's getting bigger now and it's a little more straining than it used to be.

"Egor can you get Joey and Blight home on your own? I have to go to Mother."

He nods at me and I give Joey a kiss on the forehead before putting him down at Egor's feet.

"Come on Joey, let's get some chocolate for the way home," Egor says, patting a pocket that jingles with coins.

I run, the whole way. I can hear the phone ringing from the porch but I ignore it.

"Mother?" I call out, running around the house, banging all the doors open to see into the rooms. "Mom?"

I find her in the bathroom. She is sitting in a bath of cold water, shivering in her nightdress.

I approach her slowly.

"Mom? Are you ok?" I kneel down at the tub and rest my chin on the edge.

Her lips move but I can't hear what she's saying, the damn telephone is still ringing.

"What? What did you say?"

"This family's cursed," she whispers.

I offer her my hand and she flinches away from it. She knows that it's my fault.

"Come on you have to get out now. I'll help you."

She refuses to acknowledge me any further. What do I do? There's no one else to help me now. Blight can't look after himself and Egor doesn't know what's going on half the time. It's just me now.

"Mom, come on. You can't let Joey see you like this." I try to put my hands under her arms to pull her out but as soon as I touch her she screams and screams. I recoil like I've been slapped and run out of the bathroom. I can't do it. I can't hold it together. Why won't that damn phone stop ringing?

I snatch it up and snarl into it.

"What do you want?"

"_It's Finnick,_" comes the voice on the other end. He sounds funny, maybe he's sick.

"It's not really a good time…"

"_Mason…"_ his voice cracks.

"What? What is it?" The viciousness has left my voice and now I'm concerned.

"_They've killed her. They've killed Finnola._"

Definitely still a part of the nightmare.


	36. What A Crop

**Chapter Thirty-Six- What A Crop**

The following few months are the worst. Mother is almost completely catatonic. Everyday she moves a few steps from her bed to the armchair in her room and back again, staring out of the window the whole way to avoid looking at me.

Blight comes over occasionally, when he's sober, and tries teaching Joey some easy meals to make for us all. He tried with me but for the longevity of the kitchenware he decided it would be better if 9-year-old Joey handled the cooking instead.

When Joey's at school, I leave Mother to her staring and try to keep Uncle Fern's butcher shop open. When I first let myself in, the bloodstain was still at the bottom of the stairs. I spent a morning on my hands and knees trying to scrub it away but I think it had been left too long so I bought a rug to cover it up. Sometimes I sit on the bottom step and talk to it, asking my Uncle what to do.

Hardly anybody comes into the shop, I'm not sure if it's out of respect for my Uncle or if they just don't want to talk to me. I do my best to be social when people come in but it's so difficult when I know that they all watched me kill people with my bare hands.

I speak to Finnick once a week on the telephone. I always call him. Sometimes Mags answers, sometimes Annie. It's obvious that they're trying to take care of him like Blight is making an effort to take care of us. They have to hold the phone to his ear sometimes because his hands are busy doing something. He tells me he likes tying and untying knots when his mind is racing so I assume that's what his hands are busy with. One day, three weeks before the reapings for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Finnick sounds even more distracted than usual.

"_Do you ever wonder what they'd do if we just sailed away?"_ he says.

"I think they'd probably think I was a lunatic sitting in a boat in the middle of a forest," I reply twirling the phone cord around my fingers, trying to make a knot in it.

"_You know what I mean_."

"I think Peacekeepers would drag us back by our ears. If they didn't….what was that thing you told me about where they drag you under the boat?"

"Keelhaul us"

"Exactly. We shouldn't be talking about this anyway."

"_No, I know. I've just been doing a lot of thinking." _

"Have you run out of things to knot?"

He chuckles softly.

"_No I haven't. I've been helping Mags make nets for the guys at the harbor; it'll save them some money if we just give it to them for free. They've been asking for help, and we're the ones they look up to so why shouldn't we be the ones to make the difference happen you know?" _

"Not really. Odair are you ok? You're not drinking are you?"

I admit I had experimented with Blight's way of life but found it just too undignified. Little Joey had burst in on me cradling the toilet in the morning and I was absolutely mortified. No, I need to keep my wits about me, even if that means that I have to think about my Father, Uncle Fern, Red and Finnola every day.

"_No I'm not drinking. Have you had a red envelope yet?" _

"Not yet. You?"

"_I've had three."_

"Ever popular, you."

"_I think they're just making sure I come back."_

"Making sure you don't just sail away."

"_Hmm. Listen I've got to go Mason, Annie's come over to help. I can see her at the window I've got to go let her in. I'll see you in a few weeks." _

I say goodbye and put the phone down. What was he talking about, the 'guys at the harbor' asking for help? He can't be serious about sailing away or he wouldn't have told me over the telephone. Neither of us would know what to look for so we just accept that the phone lines are bugged. If he really was going to run away they'd all know by now and be watching him to make sure he didn't get very far.

I can hear movement in the kitchen. Joey is starting dinner. I go to see what he's making and get the surprise of my life when I see Mother sitting at the table.

"Mother's come to join us for dinner," Joey says with a big smile on his face. "I told her I was making carrot soup with cream and she said she wanted to try it!"

"She spoke to you?"

He nods and takes out a knife to cut up the carrots. Instinctively I take it off him and he pulls a face at me.

"I'm 9 and I do all the cooking, you don't have to keep me away from sharp things anymore," he tells me cocking his head to one side.

"When did you get so cheeky?" I gape.

"This morning?"

I laugh and insist on doing the cutting, pushing him away to get the other ingredients ready while I cut up the carrots. He goes to the panty and the door bangs shut behind him.

"Joey?" I call out, he doesn't answer. "Joey, bring some of those herbs Egor brought the other day." Still no answer. "Joey!" I turn around, still holding the knife and Mother screams.

Joey appears like a shot.

"What happened?" he yells over Mother's cries.

I shrug but he looks at the knife in my hand.

"Oh…" I put it down. She may have forgotten how to look after her 9-year-old son but remembers when her daughter waved a knife at her. Brilliant.

Joey calmly talks her down and then takes her back up to her room.

I don't see her again until my bags are packed, weeks later, to go to the reaping. I feel like I should go and say goodbye to her in case I accidentally get caught up in another unplanned 'act of rebellion' and she's the next victim.

Joey comes with me to the door.

"Mother?" he calls out. "Mother, Jo-Jo wants to say goodbye."

There's no invitation to come in, and no screams to stay out so we creak the door open and I step in.

"Mother, I'm going now."

I walk slowly towards her and she continues staring out of the window. I nod to Joey, who closes the door quietly.

"Mom I wanted to say goodbye, because I'm going to the reaping now and then I'm back in the Capitol for a while."

No reaction at all. Not even a flicker of the eyes in my direction.

"Stay safe Mom." I try to lay my hand on hers but she pulls it out of the way. "Fine." I say curtly and turn on my heels.

Joey has sat on the floor in the hallway with his back to the wall. He jumps up as I stride out of the room.

"That was quick," he says, running along next to me.

"Joey," I stop, go to kneel down to talk to him but stop myself. "When did you get so big? I don't even need to bend down to talk to you anymore." I pull him to my middle and give him a hug. He holds me tightly back. "Will you be ok here with her?"

"Of course, it's Mom."

"That's right, you're her favourite."

"Only cos I'm so cute." He grins.

"Only cos you haven't killed anyone." I stroke his hair gently.

"Yet," he whispers. "Three more years."

"Don't be silly, it won't ever be you."

"Isn't that what Mom and Dad said to you?" He's too clever. Too clever and too big. Why couldn't he have stayed a 6-year-old forever?

"It won't be you, I'll make sure of it. If I have to take apart every Peacekeeper in Panem with just my fingernails, I'll do it Little Joey."

"I know." He squeezes me again. "Come back soon."

"Not soon enough," I squeeze him too.

I call at Blight's house. We've decided between us that Egor should stay. He's too old to be any use to the Tributes and Joey adores spending time with him. So, the two of us put our suitcases into the back of a motorcar and are taken to the square, where people are starting to gather.

Blight and I sit in our usual seats on the stage in front of the Justice Building and watch as the Mayor makes his usual speech about what a proud District we are and how we have faith in whoever gets chosen today.

Lalaney takes the stage and we watch the usual film clip about the history of the games. The television cameras focus on me as I yawn widely in the middle of it and play with the chain on my gold locket absentmindedly. Lalaney announces that Blight and I will be the Mentors again this year and the goes to the bowls of names.

I look out at the ranks gathered before me. Where will this years sacrifices come from? One from the 18-year-olds right in front of us and one from the 12-year-olds at the back maybe? There's a broad-shouldered beefcake in the front row of the boys. I recognise him from one of the Logging teams that used to work in the woods behind the Victors' Village where my tree house was. I wouldn't mind if he was picked, we might stand a chance then. Perhaps we'll get that girl over there who looks like she has a fire burning behind her eyes.

Lalaney pulls a name out of the bowl.

"Hetty Moss."

There's a gasp from the 16-year-old section as two girls who look identical clasp hands. One of them drags her twin along behind her as she makes her way to the stage. Her sister won't let go. Some Peacekeepers step in and separate them. Hetty is walked down the aisle and up the steps. She is small for a 16-year-old, less than five foot I reckon and has dirty blonde hair with a face covered in freckles.

She shakes my hand and I see terror shining in her dark brown eyes.

"Hemlock Basswood." A dark haired, stern-looking boy, again from the 16-year-old section and again, pretty small, walks slowly towards us.

Oh District 7 what a crop you have.

I shake his hand too and Lalaney makes the two Tributes shake hands with each other for the photograph opportunity. The Tributes are taken away to say their goodbyes and Blight and I head to our own little room where we are given drinks to tide us over until it's time to get on the train.

I limit Blight to one drink and we discuss what we could do with this year's pair. Not a lot is the conclusion we come to.

Someone comes to get us after an hour to move us to the train. The Tributes are waylaid by the photographers on the platform, so we board without them.

I put my suitcase on the bed in the bedroom I always occupy on the train and sit down. The bed rustles underneath me. Funny, it's never done that before.

I stand again and see a flash of red on the blanket. An envelope.

"Johanna?" Lalaney calls for me. "Come and properly meet Hetty and Hemlock."

I decide not to let the envelope throw me. I rip it open and pull out the 'invitation'. At least I might be able to raise extra sponsor money from this one.

8o'clock, after the Tribute Parade, at a bar just off the City Circle and my new suitor's name is Plutarch Heavensbee.


	37. Things Are Changing

**Disclaimer: This is the part of my story when I have to start saying that a lot of this is based on _'The Hunger Games' _book so a portion of the story line is not of my creation, but all of Johanna's words are my own.**

Chapter Thirty-Seven- Things Are Changing

Dinner on the train is uncomfortable. Both the Tributes look fearfully at me, I don't know if they think I'm going to kill them because I don't intend to. I have to break the tension.

"So, what are you guys good at?"

"Axes?" Hemlock says, but I don't like the question in his voice.

"Right? You think you can throw one?"

"I guess?"

"You guess?"

Blight butts in. "Boy, you need to know, not guess. Guessing days are over. If you want to get out of there alive, you need to _know_ what you're doing." He sighs, exasperated, and reaches to pour himself a glass of his amber liquor.

I put my hand over the top of his glass and scowl at him. Lalaney moves the decanter to the other side of the table, away from him.

"What about you Hetty?" I turn to the tiny, frightened girl.

"I'm not sure, I don't know. I'm pretty…erm…stretchy."

"Right…" Lalaney and I share a doubtful look.

"Watch." Hetty gets to her feet and pushes some of the chairs out of the way to clear a space right down the middle of the carriage. She bends backwards, planting her hands on the floor and sending her feet over her head, she does this three times in quick succession flipping over and over.

Blight claps but I can't work out if he's being sarcastic or not. I also can't tell if he's been drinking in his room or not.

Hetty sits back down, now red in the face, but there's also an element of pride prickling behind her eyes.

"Ok, so you're pretty agile, that should be handy for…escaping the bloodbath." I clear my throat.

I watch them eat. They clear their plates in mere seconds and load them straight back up again, tearing at tender meat on the bone with their fingers and dipping it in the accompanying sauce, dripping orange droplets down their Reaping clothes. I'd forgotten what it was like to be that hungry. It seems a shame to stop them when it's time to watch the coverage of the Reapings in the other Districts.

I tell them to look for any signs of weakness in the Career Districts' Tributes.

"Is that 1, 2 and 4 then?" Hemlock checks with me.

"Yeah, I assume so. It depends, sometimes District 4 don't have two Careers," I think about Red, who did volunteer but wasn't a Career.

Hemlock and Hetty nod, soaking in whatever I have to say.

District 1 have their usual volunteers, a pretty blonde girl with doe-eyes who reminds me of Cashmere and Amethyst, called Glitter or something. Then there's a skinny boy who stands at over six-foot, he's not at all muscular, which I point out to Hetty and Hemlock, so he's volunteering because he has something special about him that overcomes his lack of physical strength.

District 2 yields some interesting Tributes: Clove, a small brawny girl with dark hair and arrogance in her eyes and her partner, Cato, a brutish boy who lunges forward to volunteer. They high-five on the stage in front of everyone. Vulgar children.

District 3 has a frightened, 14-year-old boy and a tall girl.

There's Finnick and Mags and Sandy.

Hetty sighs at the close-up of Finnick shaking the hand of the 12-year-old boy that was reaped.

"You like Finnick Odair?" Blight asks her.

She flushes pink.

"Maybe…I guess…he's alright."

"He's really scaly under those clothes," I tell her, a smile playing on my lips. "I'm surprised no one volunteered for that boy."

"Things are changing in District 4," Blight says off the cuff.

District 5 has a non-descript male Tribute but the female Tribute interests me. She has firey-red hair and eyes the same colour as Blight's favourite drink. She walks slowly, but deliberately up to the stage to shake her Mentor's hand looking defiant as she stands and waits for the male's name to be called out.

"Keep an eye on her during training," I tell Hemlock and Hetty. "She's got a plan."

"How do you know?" Hemlock frowns.

"She's Johanna Mason, if anyone knows about plans…" Hetty says immediately and I'm surprised by the respect in her voice. No one likes me but maybe someone respects me. I never thought of that before.

The other Tributes are unremarkable until it comes to District 11. The boy is another huge bulk of muscle called Thresh, he looks sullen and moody but the girl is a tiny thing of 12-year-old, Rue her name is.

District 12's reaping is the usual farce. Haymitch stumbles on, making a scene and the Escort plucks the first name from the fishbowl. Another 12-year-old girl looks startled as she gulps and shuffles out of her line. When she reaches the aisle, an older girl screams behind her.

"Prim! Prim!" She might be her sister, she has a similar shaped face but she has dark brown hair, to the younger girl's blonde.

The younger girl reaches the stage and the older one rushes ahead of her, sweeping her behind her arm as she cries,

"I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!"

After an awkward moment where the Escort tries to work out what to do, there hasn't been a volunteer from District 12 in all of my memories, the dark-haired girl is welcomed up onto the stage. She gives her name as Katniss Everdeen and she has tears in her eyes.

"She's brave," Blight ponders.

"She's crying," I add, a hint of distain in my words.

"You screamed," he bats back.

Then something strange happens in District 12. As Katniss stands there before the watching crowd, every single person there puts three fingers to their lips and then raises them in the air. It must be a special gesture over there.

Of course Haymitch ruins the moment by stumbling across the stage to slur incomprehensibly at the poor girl. He turns to the audience, and looks right down the camera lens, his mouth open as if to say something. Then the camera shot changes and whatever he says is cut out as he falls right off the stage. I raise an eyebrow at Blight but he purposefully avoids my gaze.

The boy is called. He is of medium height but is stocky, with blonde hair that falls in waves across his face. There is some flicker of recognition in the girls face but she looks reluctant to shake hands with him.

The Capitol seal takes over the screen and the District 12 pair fade away.

"There we go," Lalaney claps her hands. "I think we should go straight to bed now, get a good night's sleep."

She plays the mother hen so well and sweeps up Hetty and Hemlock to usher them to their rooms, leaving a nearly sober Blight and me together.

"What was that thing they all did with their fingers in District 12?" I ask him.

"It's a funeral thing, I think," Blight tells me, getting up and going to the liquor cabinet. "To say thank you and goodbye."

I follow him and quickly replace his glass with one of water.

"So they must all know her then, I've never seen anything like that before." I pour my own drink and sit back down in the armchair, cradling it.

"Perhaps, or maybe they were just glad that they didn't have the young girl as a Tribute. It's been a long time since District 12 won, almost 25 years."

"Haymitch won the Quarter Quell didn't he?"

Every 25 years the Hunger Games has an anniversary special. There's usually some twist to the usual rules. Next year will be one. I don't envy the Tributes that get selected for that, the odds will most definitely _not_ be in their favour.

"He did," Blight nods. "Twice as many Tributes went in so he came first out of forty-eight."

"Do you not look at him and think that's what a mess you could become? Falling off the stage and all."

Blight finishes his glass of water in one gulp and says,

"Johanna, I'm past caring what a mess I am," before replacing the glass and retiring to his own room and his secret stash of alcohol.

When we get to the Capitol the photographers push up against the windows of the train and Hetty and Hemlock shrink back. Someone bangs against the window and calls my name. I put some of my fingers in the air, and it is _not _respectful.

Hetty and Hemlock are whisked away to meet Gaia and her new male partner for this year, last years was promoted to District 3 this year. So I take the opportunity to find Finnick in the waiting room of the Remake Centre to ask him how his net is going.

"What net?" He frowns at me like I've just asked him what happened to his tail.

I sit down next him on the cold steel chairs, "The net you were making for the fishermen at the harbour?"

"Oh right yeah…" He looks around at the other Mentors and Escorts floating around.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm?"

"Oi." I swivel in my chair, slip off my shoes and place both my feet on his thighs, giving him a shake. "I don't like it when you ignore me."

"You don't like it when anyone ignores you," he murmurs in reply but then smiles at me, taking my feet in his hands.

"Actually I would love it if everyone ignored me. I could live a peaceful life as a hermit on my own. Well with Little Joey I mean."

"You'd get lonely." Finnick tells me.

"No I wouldn't, I'd have Joey. Joey and the pleasure of my own company."

"Your company sucks sometimes." He pinches my big toe.

"Shush your lips!" I kick him.

"See!" He absent-mindedly starts rolling my sock down my leg. "You need grown-up company too."

He's being weird. I don't like it. I prefer the jokey Finnick who I can banter with. This new one is being a bit too serious and cryptic for me.

"I don't have the money to buy you Odair."

This is obviously the wrong joke to make because he pushes my legs off him and sits there with his arms folded.

I am determined not to be the first person to speak. He's the one that's in a strop. We sit in silence until his Escort appears to whisk him away to the gallery where the Mentors watch the Tribute Parade.

I wonder what could be the matter with him. One minute he's buoyed by the idea of helping people and then he's saying I need company. Maybe he needs company. Maybe he's lonely without Finnola? No, how could he be, he's had Mags and Annie around every minute of the day.

Gaia comes out of one of the rooms and rolls her eyes at me.

"Why are you so hairy in District 7?" She doesn't give me time to rudely reply. "I've put a few highlights in Hetty's hair, just to put some depth into the colour."

She babbles on as we walk along the corridor of the Remake Center. I largely ignore her until she starts pulling on my hair.

"What are you doing?" I stop and she keeps tugging at strands of my hair.

"I'm sorting your hair."

"Stop it! You know I don't like anyone touching my hair! Don't cut my hair!" I stamp my feet like a child and realise that perhaps Finnick was right and I do need some grown-up company.

"Oh hush I'm not cutting your hair," Gaia tuts and then steps back. "Here." She passes me a hand mirror.

For the first time I don't see a ragged, unkempt wild thing in the mirror. I see a lady. Gaia has twisted and pinned my grown out hair into a twisted bun at the nape of my neck.

"It's still different lengths, but you look quite presentable now." Gaia nods, satisfied, and makes her way to get the chariot dressed and ready for the parade.

I head up the stairs to the 'Gallery', tempted to pull out all the pins to return to my usual mess, but push my hands into my pockets instead. I'll show Finnick that I can be grown-up.

Beetee and Byte are up there, talking to Finnick. Haymitch is also there.

"Hey, look who's spruced up!" he sniggers.

"Hey, look who can string a sentence together," I retort back at him and sit two rows in front of him facing the long window looking down onto the Capitol street.

He doesn't take the hint and climbs over the chairs between us.

"What's all this about then?" He prods my bun.

I smack his hand away.

"Don't…touch the hair. Why are you so chipper?"

"Got me a fighter this year," he says proudly.

"Which one? The crying girl or the blonde boy?" I can't help the sneer that crosses my face.

"Ahh that would be telling." He taps his nose.

Blight arrives and pushes through the chatting Mentors and Escorts to sit down next to me. We discuss the inevitable tree costumes that we'll be seeing in a minute and Haymitch chips in with his favourites from years past.

Finnick finishes with the District 3 pair and joins us.

"Well if you two are here, who's keeping the Capitol bars in business?" He claps Haymitch on the back and puts a hand on Blight's shoulder.

"I'm under a promise to stay sober," Haymitch says, sticking his bottom lip out in a mock sulk.

"My, my did anyone else just see that pig flying past the window?" I point out of the enormous window into the night.

A smile flickers across Finnick's face. I saw it, he can't be that mad at me.

"A promise to who?" he asks Haymitch.

"My Tributes."

There's a roar outside and the fanfare begins. The first chariot is rolling out into the street. It's pulled by snow white horses and the Tributes atop it are sprayed silver with tunics sprinkled with glittering jewels. Tacky District 1.

District 5 wear huge headdresses that glitter silver representing the Power they supply to Panem. The red-head waves to the audience but remains tight-lipped.

There are Hemlock and Hetty…the District 7 trees.

There is a huge commotion in the crowd when District 12 appear.

"Haymitch…" Blight's eyes widen. "I wouldn't tell the bar to close your tab just yet."

I lean forward in my seat to try and see what has startled everyone.

"Haymitch! Your Tributes are on fire!" I jump up and stand right against the window. Finnick is by my side first, and then the rest of the Mentors are doing the same.

"It's not them, it's the capes!" Finnick exclaims. "Their costumes are the fire!"

"They're burning coal!" Someone else calls out, I think it's the District 12 escort.

The volunteer looks like a changed girl. She's waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. She catches one of the flowers thrown at her and I notice that it's a rose. Yeah keep being delightful, I think, if you make it out alive that rose will own you.

When the parade passes us we all gather our things and move out. Some will go to meet their Tributes, some will go to the nearest bar to meet sponsors, and some will go straight to bed. Finnick and I are going to get ready for our 'dates'.

We reach the Training Center while the Tributes are still circling under the balcony where Snow will make his usual speech.

Finnick hasn't spoken to me for the whole ride but when the doors to the elevator close I can't stand it anymore and give him a shove. His head smacks into the wall.

"What was that for?" He rubs the back of his head.

"Why are you being so moody?" I demand.

"I'm not being moody!"

"Yes you are, you're talking about being grown-up and then not talking to me."

"I'm not moody!" He says one more time and then grabs me around the waist and pulls me towards him. He holds me close to his body. "Things are changing. You'll see." He plants a wet kiss to my cheek as the elevator doors open at the 4th floor and he steps out.

I'm left by myself wondering what he meant. Things are changing. Blight had said something similar when we were watching the Reapings.

I think about those words over and over as I paint my usual red lips and heavily line my eyes with charcoal black. It makes me think about the District 12 pair, holding hands. They looked powerful and strong, the antithesis of the standard District 12 crop. Things really are changing.


	38. Trust

**Chapter Thirty-Eight- Trust**

Plutarch Heavensbee is waiting for me at the bar. I'm twenty minutes late but he still has a smile on his face. He's a large man and there's some definite flab hanging over the edge of the bar stool he's sitting on.

"Hello Miss Mason." He gets up and bows, takes my hand and kisses it. "What a pleasure to finally meet you in person, I've been an admirer for a long time."

"Yeah, yeah," I roll my eyes and flag down the bartender.

"Oh I'm sorry, let me get you a drink," Plutarch says, ordering two of something with just a flick of his fingers.

A purple drink appears in a triangular glass. I down it in one mouthful.

"Another," I call to the pink-eyed man behind the bar. "Another for you?" I ask Plutarch.

He looks down at his still full glass and then shrugs,

"Why not?"

I admire his stamina. He matches me drink for drink, all the time inserting information about himself. Drink one: He's a big fan. Drink Two: He's a wealthy professional. Drink Three: He's single. Drink Four: He's a Gamemaker.

"I'm making the mutts for this year," he confesses.

My admiration for him steeply drops.

"So when my Tributes have their eyes stolen by sparrows I'll have you to blame then." I finish the latest drink and reach for another but he stops me.

"No more drinks." His voice has changed, it's more firm, almost like an order. "Lets go back to mine."

I sigh deeply.

"Fine."

His apartment has two floors and the bedroom takes up the whole top floor. The bed takes up almost three quarters of the room. It's the most enormous bed I've ever seen.

"Now I'm going to ask you something that may seem a little weird, please just go with it." Plutarch says as he loosens the top buttons on his shirt.

"What's that then?" I've heard quite a few 'weird' requests in the past couple of years.

"Go to the window over there and strip to your underwear then come back here."

Though I pull a face, the alcohol flowing through my veins starts my feet walking and I do as he says.

On my way back I am dreading the sight of him naked. What if he's as hairy as he is flabby? I've had quite a bit to drink, what if I throw up on him?

Thankfully when I get back, he is still in his clothes. He pulls back the bedclothes and motions for me to get in. He gets in next to me, still in his clothes, and puts his arms around me.

He pulls the sheets over our heads and whispers, "I'm terribly sorry about this Johanna, this isn't how I normally conduct business meetings but I'm sure you can understand that there's an expected protocol for this evening's events."

I'm thoroughly confused by his speech so I pick up on the only part I understood.

"Business meetings?"

"Yes, don't worry you can trust me, your friend Mr Odair is in the middle of a similar meeting with my secretary, Fulvia. I've arranged this meeting to discuss things with you."

"What kind of 'things'?" It's hot under the sheets with him breathing right into my face, I hope it doesn't take too long.

"The Districts, your uncle—"

I suck in a sharp breath

"What about my uncle?"

"Do you know how he died Johanna?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"And do you know why?"

Is he a spy? Can I trust him? How much should I say?

"Because I upset the balance and Snow didn't like it." If he is a spy for Snow then I've just repeated pretty much what Snow told me. I should be safe.

"There's a little bit more to it I'm afraid. Fern Hazel had been a marked man for a good ten years before his unfortunate 'accident'. He was overheard making treacherous comments in his youth and was tagged as a possible troublemaker. While you were away for the 71st Hunger Games he was carefully watched as he trolled District 7 begging for sponsorship money for you. After that, every time you were away he was consorting with other tagged rebels in the area. That is why he stumbled at the top of his stairs. His faction were also accidentally caught in a forest fire that same night in the north with no survivors."

For everything I've drunk tonight, my mouth is dry.

He continues, "Don't think for a minute that his death was solely due to your actions. Snow's spies were just waiting for the opportunity to get rid of him and throw you off the rebel scent. The moment I saw you Johanna I knew your mind. I knew where you were destined to be, on our side."

"Whose side are you?" I breathe.

"The side you can trust, the side of change. Panem won't last much longer in this state. We want to dissolve it, free the Districts and punish Snow."

"But you're a Gamemaker, you make a living out of thinking up new and interesting ways to kill children from the Districts. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm making a living out of killing children Johanna," he replies simply. "I thought I'd be a designer, get to use my creativity and strategic prowess. During my first Games, when a volcano I designed erupted and I watched the skin of the Tributes bubble and peel, I finally realised what kind of society I'd been brought up by. I carried on as a Gamemaker though in case I could be of use."

"Why do you need me then?"

"For the same reason we need Finnick, information about people in the know. We have a few people that have information and we need people who can get that intimate knowledge from them."

"So you need me to keep whoring myself out then." There's an undisguised tinge of disappointment in my voice. I think a part of me was hoping that my job would be something a little more violent, assassinating President Snow would have been too much to hope for I guess.

"Essentially. I'm still doing the job expected of me so you need to as well to avoid discovery." Plutarch reaches into one of his pockets and passes me a tiny slip of white paper. "This is someone of interest to us, he's shown some interest in you. I'm going to use my contacts to push him towards you and we need some information from him. It's all there on the paper."

I nod.

"So why are we under the bedclothes?"

"In case I'm being watched. I've no reason to suspect it but can't be too safe." He checks his watch. "I think it's probably ok for you to leave now."

"But you've still got your clothes on…you just got into bed fully dressed. What if they are watching?" I frown.

"Tell people I'm a pervert. Tell them I'm lonely and just wanted the company, whatever you like I don't mind." He then rolls over so his back is to me. "I'll give you some privacy to get dressed again."

I laugh, now that is something I don't hear during normal 'dates'. I tuck the piece of paper into the waistband of my panties before I leave the bed, collect my clothes and get dressed in the living area downstairs.

It's a novelty going back to the Training Center with no soreness or self-loathing, in fact there's almost a spring in my step. I want to run straight to the 4th Floor to talk to Finnick about everything but I know I can't. There are still Tributes around that need their Mentors and we shouldn't really talk about this stuff _and_ he's all moody with me anyway.

I can't just go back to my room though. Blight will have complained about Gaia's tree costumes at the dinner table, she will have gone off in a tantrum, Blight will have got drunk and Lalaney will have pushed Hetty and Hemlock off to bed straight after dinner.

When I get in the elevator and look at the buttons, inspiration hits. I ride all the way up to the roof terrace. I'll spend some time just the stars and me.

The wind is howling across the glass dome when the doors open and when I step outside I can barely hear my own footsteps. I lean against the railings and look up. No stars. I forgot about all the lights around here. Maybe I should wait until 2am like I did the night before my Game. Red pointed out some stars to me then because there were less lights. At the moment, below, there are millions of flashing, twinkling and glowing neon lights.

I wish I'd brought my locket up here with me. Sometimes I talk to it and pretend Red's alive. It would have been nice to talk to him tonight but I don't like to bring him on my 'dates' so he's downstairs next to my newest pinecone. I like to bring the pinecones with me to remember home. Not the home I've come from, but the one I left three years ago: Mother, Father, Little Joey and Uncle Fern. Now I'm down by half.

"I bet you're all having a great time out there," I murmur, not sure if I'm saying it to the Capitol people below me or Father, Uncle Fern and Red above me. "While I'm stuck here, no where to go, no one but myself to talk to." The wind changes direction ever so slightly and I catch another voice in the breeze. Was that an echo or is there someone else up here?

I spin around but don't see anybody. Probably an echo then. I'm losing it. I'll be as crazy as Annie Cresta before any kind of rebellion succeeds. Poor Annie Cresta. Poor Johanna Mason. Maybe I should play mad, it's gotten Annie out of all kinds of Capitol crap. Maybe she's not really mad, maybe—

That _was_ another voice!

I tread carefully back towards the glass dome with the doors to the elevator and fire escape stairs. There's no one inside it but I can see movement through it. Someone…I think there might be two people actually, is on the other side of the roof terrace. Once more the wind hides my footsteps and I step closer to see who it is. I hear a snippet of their conversation,

"…from here? Where do you suppose…?"

It's a pair of Tributes. I think it might even be District 12, the girl has her back to me but I can definitely see the blonde boy. They're sat in the middle of a garden area that I've never see before, then again I've never explored this side of the roof before.

Coupled with the wind, there's a set of wind chimes also covering their words. I notice that the girl (Katty?) is wearing a jacket a little too big for her. Is it his? Has he given her his coat, just like Red did for me? They are a strange pair these two, I've never seen Tributes this united before. He's obviously more into the unity that she is seeing as how she's wearing his coat and her body language is closed away from him.

"I'd leave here," the boy says loudly. I hear it quite clearly over the wind and the chimes. I think it occurs to him how loud he's spoken because he looks around nervously and I duck behind the glass dome.

Then I realise that the dome is _glass _and therefore see-through. Idiot.

I stand up straight, ready to come clean but they haven't noticed me. I hope they're this perceptive in the arena, and then maybe my Tributes will have a chance.

I decide to leave them to their little moment, whatever they're talking about, and take the elevator back down to the 7th Floor.

Lalaney is playing a game of cards at the dining table on her own and asks me how the 'date' went.

"Still got my looks," I tell her, shrugging. "How are Hetty and Hemlock?"

"Not bad, scared. I don't think they trust Blight as far as they could throw him. They trust you though."

I let out a loud snort.

"There's a first for everything. I don't know why they do, I haven't managed to bring any Tributes home." and then I remember the paper in my panties.

I've been trusted with a secret task and so far I've not been able to follow through on any trust put in me.


	39. Poems and Love Letters

**A/N- I've just signed up to Twitter ( ArowanaFlounder) and I'm going to do all my authors notes on there from now on so you don't have to read them if you're not bothered **

**Chapter Thirty-Nine- Poems and Love Letters.**

Gaia recycles Training outfits for Hetty and Hemlock and I make sure they are early to the Training Room. Then I wait for the elevator to come back up to take me down to the 4th Floor.

Mags greets me at the door once more and grins at me, waving me in.

There is still some breakfast on the table so she presses some toast with purple jam on it into my hands and then shuffles around tidying away plates. An Avox tries to take them off her but she bats him away. He looks exasperated, as though this is not the first altercation they've had.

"Finnick!" Mags calls out in her slightly slurred voice. "Johanna is here." She sounds just like a mother calling for her son because a friend has called round for him.

He sticks his head out of his bedroom door and I wave.

"Can you come out and play?"

He narrows his eyes.

"What are we playing?"

"Well I know you've a bit moody lately so I thought I'd take advantage and we could go wind up some Sponsors? I didn't get any sponsorship money from last night did you?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to communicate what I mean. I want to find out if Plutarch had been telling the truth and Finnick had been approached as well.

"No…I didn't. Let me just finish in here, I'll be right out." He ducks back into the room.

"What are you doing in there?" I go after him, sticking my foot in the door so he can't close it behind him.

"Nothing, just finishing something. Go away, I'll only be a minute!" He leaps on the bed and shoves something under the covers.

"Are you doing something disgusting in here?" I exclaim.

"No! Just go away!"

Something rolls off the end of the bed with the force of the bedclothes being thrown aside.

"Gross! You're like a weird teenager!"

"And you're like an annoying little sister, go away for the third time!"

I pick up the thing that rolled away and hold it up.

"What were you doing with a pen…in bed?"

"Nothing! Give it here." He reaches out for it, exposing the corner of some paper. I let go of the pen and grab the paper. It's an envelope.

"Why are you sending something to your house in District 4?" As soon as I say it, I worry that I've put my foot in it. What if it's something to do with Plutarch and the rebels?

"It's none of your business!" He pushes me away and I trip. Instinctively I grasp for something to stop my fall. It happens to be Finnick's shirt and he tumbles off the bed on top of me, another piece of paper in his hand behind his back.

I push him off and snatch the paper out of his fingers.

"Dear Annie…" I read out loud. "Annie Cresta? Why is she at your house?"

"Stop it Johanna, seriously give it back to me." He's on his feet and lunging at me.

I dance away from him, still reading.

" 'I can't tell you how much I am missing you'"

He chases me around the room and I jump up onto the bed, bouncing as I continue,

" 'Without seeing your face every day, the Capitol seems colourless to me. The air is empty if it's not carrying your voice to me'… Is this a love letter?"

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. All of a sudden I feel bad. In fact, I kind of hate myself right now.

I kneel down on the bed behind him.

"Do you love her?" I ask softly.

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"I'm not sure…it sort of crept up on me."

"Is she living with you now then?"

"Yeah."

I kneel up, put my arms around his shoulders and sigh.

"What a mess you've got yourself in Odair."

"I know." He takes his hands away from his face and holds mine.

"Does anyone else know?" I mean anyone in the Capitol of course.

"Probably. The moment she started coming round without Mags they probably knew. They probably knew before I did."

"They can't touch her though, she's a Victor and she's not well."

"Yes they can Johanna. They can touch her _because_ she's not well. They can break her. I don't know what I'd do if they broke her."

I rest my chin on his shoulder and give him a squeeze.

"You'd make them sorry, and I would help you. It won't be like this forever Finnick. You were talking about helping the people in the harbour and I know what you meant now. 'Why shouldn't we be the ones to make the difference'."

He nods slowly.

"You deserve to be happy," I add in a whisper and kiss his cheek before getting off the bed and standing with my hands on my hips. "Now are we going to play with some Sponsors or are you going to stay here and write a poem about your feelings?"

He finally chuckles and rises to his feet, putting his arms around me.

"You know you can be a such a bitch..."

"But…" I poke him.

"But nothing."

"Ha you're funny."

We do go down to The Pit, a recreational area in the Training Center which only Mentors, Escorts and Sponsors can visit. They serve food, they play a live feed of the Games when they're on, and they have a bar. There are a couple of private booths to seal Sponsorship deals but only Mentors and Sponsors can go in there. Finnick and I have enjoyed targeting the same Sponsor and chalk up who gets them for the past couple of years. So far the score is 8-3 to Finnick, but I put that down to the fact that District 4 are always a much safer bet.

We choose a bespectacled little man who is obviously here on behalf of his company, whatever that is. We set ourselves up at an adjacent table to him and begin a loud discussion about our Tributes.

"I told him I'd get him a trident just like mine if he won. He reminds me a lot of myself. Remember I was almost as young as him when I won." Oh nice play Finnick, what a convincer.

"Please Odair, your little one doesn't stand a chance. Everyone knows District 4 is losing their edge, how long has it been since you've had a winner again?"

"Excuse me," Finnick leans over to the man with glasses. "Could you help us out with an argument. You're a Sponsor right?"

He nods.

"Well who would you sign up? District 4 or 7?" I ask, adding, "Even though District 7, and I, would really appreciate every bit of the contribution." I bat my eyelashes.

"But ultimately it would be a waste of money," Finnick butts in.

The man looks uncomfortable.

"Well my boss sent me with instructions for where to place the money." He holds the back of his neck awkwardly and his amber eyes flick back and forth between Finnick and I. He smiles at me and I smile encouragingly back. "I would give it to District 7. I'm sorry Mr Odair but that twelve-year-old has got me worried."

I pump my fist and stand up.

"Would you like to have a more personal conversation about it Mr…"

His cheeks flush bright red.

"Oh…errr…I'm sorry. My boss told me to come and meet with District 12. _I _would give you everything I had Miss Mason but I have to give my company money to District 12."

I let my shoulders drop.

"How much do _you_ have?" I ask.

"Johanna!" Finnick exclaims and grabs my arm. "I'm terribly sorry to have disturbed you sir." He drags me away roughly.

"I think that should still count as one for me," I say. "He would have given me a deal."

"But you didn't get one so it's still 8-3"

"Urgh!" I moan loudly as we sit down at the bar and the people nearby look around startled. "Why are 12 getting Sponsors?"

"Because for once they've got some interesting Tributes and, as ever, you're being so gracious about it." He smirks and orders us some glasses of water. "Look, speak of the devil, there's Haymitch, and he's wearing a suit!"

"This I gotta see!" I spin around on my barstool and gawk at the man striding confidently into The Pit. "That's not Haymitch is it?"

"Sure is."

"He's…almost handsome!" and he is. His suit is perfectly tailored for him making it seem as if he's lost some of the paunchiness around his middle. His hair is washed and he's cleanly shaven.

All of a sudden The Pit is alive, people are jumping up from their tables to talk to him. I overhear someone say that information from the Training Room has been leaked and the District 12 Tributes are sticking together. Everyone's dying to hear their story. Are they friends? Are they family? Aren't they intriguing?

"I've never seen District 12 hold so much interest," Finnick murmurs.

I finish my water. "Whatever, there's a woman there who looks just as bored as I am, I'm going to talk to her. See if she can spare a few coins for her favourite District."

"I wouldn't bother," Finnick tells me.

"Why not?"

"Because she likes seafood." He's caught her eye and winks at her. She wiggles her fingers back at him.

"Oh go write a poem Odair," I snap, irritated.


	40. Leaving

**Chapter Forty- Leaving**

I sign up two sponsors, both of whom are men that I go on 'dates' with and who sponsor me every year. I have enough to send my Tributes a bottle of water on day one. The prices really are getting extortionate.

Finnick scores another 2 points in our game. I'm thinking of ending it though to be honest. It's not as fun when he keeps winning.

When I get back upstairs Hetty and Hemlock are back. I tell them that I've signed up some Sponsors, I don't tell them how many or how much…or that I've had to sleep with them to get the money.

They tell me about their training. The Career Tributes have stuck together and Hetty says they were rowdy at lunchtime, exercising their authority. District 12 have stayed together at all the stations and at lunch, talking animatedly with each other and even joking. Hemlock tells me he overheard the boy explaining the different types of bread from the Districts. Bread…really? The evenings must be sooo entertaining on the 12th floor.

The next few days are full of stories from the Training Room.

"The screen for plant recognition broke so the boy from 3 fixed it."

"The little girl from 11 hit a target with a slingshot on every attempt!"

"Someone took the long knife the boy from 2 was using so he pushed the boy from 6 over."

"The boy from 12 nearly knocked down the trainer in hand-to-hand, he's really good."

The more I hear, the more I realise that Hetty and Hemlock really don't stand a chance.

The Training Scores are due the same day as a red envelope arrives for me. I open it with bated breath but it's not the name I've been waiting to see. It's one of my regulars. Hetty pulls a six and Hemlock scores five in Training. Not the worst but by no means the best. The twelve-year-old from 11 gets a higher score than both of them. The redhead from 5 scores low as well and I can't help but think my own template is being followed.

It might be a surprise to some when Katniss (the screen reminds me of her name) from 12 gets an 11, but not me. I've been hearing too much about her, so her getting the highest score is just the icing on the cake.

"What on earth did she do to get that?" Gaia exclaims at the TV screen.

"Either something really good, or something really bad," Blight says thoughtfully.

"Why would they give her a high score if she sucked?" I frown.

"They may be painting a target on her."

"Then what _did_ she do?" Everyone I've known that's pissed off the Gamemakers has been after they did something in the arena, I've never heard of anyone pissing them off before they even went in.

Hetty and Hemlock look uncomfortable as we discuss the District 12 score in depth so Lalaney cuts in,

"Ok well tomorrow we need to work on Interview techniques so Johanna and Blight will take Hetty for content in the morning and Hemlock will come with me and his stylist then we'll swap."

Urgh. I hate Interview technique. I hated it when it was me being interviewed and I hate it even more when I'm the one doing the training. Blight is much better at it than I and usually takes the lead. I sit back and fiddle and fidget, occasionally heckling the volume or how 'dumb' it sounds. I am usually ignored.

Gaia's outfit for Hetty is lovely, a real sweetheart dress. It's salmon pink and has a ruching skirt that swings playfully when she moves.

Hemlock wears a navy blue suit with an electric blue lapel.

They are both upstaged by the damn District 12 girl whose dress bursts into licking flames as she twirls vapidly. I'm sat on the balcony where the Mentors, Escorts and Stylists watch the interviews when it happens. I catch Finnick's eye and roll mine violently.

He mouths, "You hate everyone."

I reply, "Mainly her," and jab my thumb at the stage. He chuckles and immediately the camera is on his face. Great, now they're going to think he's enjoying her little performance. I slump down in my chair with my arms folded. The camera doesn't come to me, pity.

After Katniss, her District partner comes out. He looks pretty dashing with his blonde hair slicked back in his fancy suit. He has a good rapport with Caesar who is powder blue this year. I think back to the bet I made with the stagehands three years ago, when can I collect some winnings? Then Caesar is asking him if he has a girlfriend and doesn't believe him when he shakes his head. The boy relents slightly and gives in.

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

The whole audience sighs. Soppy fools. Caesar tells him not to worry and that she'll never turn him down if he comes home as a Victor.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…won't help my case." He shuffles in his seat.

"Why ever not?" Caesar looks baffled and the boy goes bright red.

"Because…because…she came here with me."

Oh for crying out loud, star-crossed lovers? District 12 are playing a blinder this year! The boy is in love with the girl, who didn't know he existed until he was reaped to go to a battle to the death with her. I couldn't have written it better myself. On my way out I squeeze Haymitch's shoulder as I shuffle past him and whisper in his ear,

"The things you can do when you're sober Abernathy."

He smiles but there's an excited sparkle in his eyes.

I wonder if Katniss had known about this turn of events, if she did she hadn't let anything slip. Then I think about the pair of them up on the roof and how the boy had given her his jacket and she had been closed off to him. Maybe it wasn't so much of a story after all.

I trundle off for a quick 'date' straight from the studio and am back before Hetty and Hemlock have gone to bed. They jump to their feet when I stomp through the door tripping over the heels I've given a trial run.

"Relax guys it's only me," I say, choosing to forget the fact that I start awake at least twice a night if there is so much as a change in wind direction outside. "I like your reflexes though." I kick off the heels, grab them by the straps and swing them over my shoulder.

"We were just talking," says Hemlock almost timidly.

"What about?" I perch on the edge of the couch.

"Just about whether we should stick together at the Cornucopia."

"No," I say firmly. "You do nothing at the Cornucopia except get the hell out of there. Decide on a direction and run, hide."

"Hemlock reckons if he can get an axe—" Hetty pipes up but I cut in.

"You run. I am telling you now, no bullshit, you will die if you don't run. District 1 and 2 will slice you through like soft cheese. Last year I didn't insist and we didn't last. I am insisting that you run. I am busting my ass to find sponsors to keep you alive, don't you dare get killed in the first five minutes." I glare at both of them. I feel that fire burning behind my eyes again, the same flame that burned at my Reaping and when I killed Absalom.

Hemlock and Hetty take a joint step away from me.

"Busy day tomorrow," I repeat my Escort's favourite words. "I'll come up to the roof with you both to get on the hovercraft. So better get some sleep and eat plenty of breakfast." I swing my heels in my hands and almost skip to my room. Frightening people shouldn't make me feel so good.

I have a terrible dream that night about Katniss from District 12 putting her hands around Hetty's throat and severing her head then coming after me in her burning dress. Finnick stands in between us but she grows fangs and rips open his throat. Mags tries to scream but instead chokes and is writhing around on the floor coughing.

It's a horrible sight to see everyone I trust dropping like flies and I wake up in a cold sweat.

I wish there was someone I could go to and hold for just a while. If I was home it could be Little Joey but here I'm alone. Finnick hasn't come to visit this year let alone spend the night. I guess he doesn't feel right doing it now because of Annie. I wonder if she knows about the women he 'dates' out here. I can't see why she would; there'd be nothing but jealousy and paranoia to come out of it.

My mind is now stuck on the topic of Finnick and Annie, I can't go back to sleep. I decide to get up and get a cold drink.

'It sort of crept up on me' he'd said. I remember back to my Victory Tour when she'd arrived with Finnick and poor Finnola. I'd suspected there was something going on then but he's only recently changed. Did I know there was something going on before he did?

Why am I giving it so much thought? I don't care who he's sleeping with in or out of the Capitol. What does it matter to me?

I pour a finger measure of Blight's not-so-secret amber drink into a glass and then fill the glass with ice cubes.

Maybe I always thought that Finnick and I would…I don't know…not end up together but end up lonely together. Sitting in our matching rocking chairs, me moaning about the youth of today and him rolling his eyes, telling me to stop being cranky and take my medicine. Now I guess it'll be him and Annie in the rocking chairs and I'll be the crazy one shouting at a bush because I've got no one else to talk to.

The image brings a slightly amused smile to my face. At least the bush wouldn't answer back. Besides, this all hinges on the rebellion working and the Districts being able to intermingle. If it doesn't work out then we'll all stay exactly where we are and once District 7 gets another couple of Victors, or either of us get too senile to be of any use, we won't see each other ever again.

I gulp down my drink in one go and immediately get brain-freeze from all the ice.

I put the glass down feeling betrayed by Blight's trusted thought-blocker and march straight to the door to the suite to summon the elevator.

I go to bang on the door to his suite but stop myself, remembering that his Tributes will be trying to get a final night's rest in a bed before they go into the arena. I tap on the door softly and get no reply. Of course, he'll be sleeping and there's no way to wake Finnick without the rest of the suite. I sigh, turning back to the elevator.

I've just pressed the button when the door behind me opens.

"I thought I heard something out here," his voice says gently. "Not trying to disturb my Tributes are you?"

I spin back around and hiss at him.

"How dare you, I came for the pleasure of your company."

He stands there, a cheeky smile on his face, his arms outstretched to me.

"Well come on then."

I fall into his embrace and instantly feel comforted. He holds me tight and close, no different to the way he always has. I let out a long, relaxed breath.

"Thanks, that's all I needed." I give him a squeeze and then pull away.

"So you're just going to use me and then leave." He sniffs.

"I thought you'd be used to it by now." I stand on tiptoes and kiss his lips before slapping his backside and adding, "Happy Hunger Games Sugar!" Then I waltz into the waiting elevator.

I prefer it when I'm in control. I prefer it when I leave him than the thought of him leaving me.

In the morning, I walk Hemlock and his Stylist to the hovercraft and reiterate how unimpressed I will be if he takes a single step towards the Cornucopia. I do the same to Hetty but Blight joins me for that trip so I don't get to use exactly the same expletives because he glares at me too much.

I watch one Tribute, then the other leave me, the Capitol and themselves behind. If they come out, they will be something different, if they don't then they've died as an anonymous sacrifice.

Happy Hunger Games.

When I return to my room to pack a small bag of toiletries for my stay in The Hub, there is a red envelope on my pillow. Inside is the name I've been waiting to see.

Today, at 7pm, I will leave myself behind and become a rebel.


	41. Bloodbath

**Chapter Forty-One- Bloodbath**

Blight and I go down to The Hub with the rest of the Mentors. There are photographers bundled on either side of the elevators lining the way to the basement stairs. Beetee, Byte and their female Mentor this year, Agnes, share our elevator and we are revealed to the press together.

They call for Byte because he was last year's winner, and they call for me because they always get a good controversial quote out of me. We stop and pose together. The older Mentors stand back, a few people call for them out of desperation but they don't move.

"Johanna! What do you think District 7's chances are?"

"Slim," I reply. "Unless every other Tribute falls of their pedestal."

"Byte! How's it been being a Mentor for the first time?"

He stares, blinking at every flashing camera. He's only sixteen years old.

"Overwhelming," I say on his behalf and push on a camera lens. "Now clear off and find someone shallow and idiotic to film. Oh look here comes Cashmere." I pull a face and drag Byte along to the stairs as the crowd screams for District 1 who stand in the middle of the aisle and raise their arms in the air waving. Blight, Beetee and Agnes are right behind us.

"Are you ok?" I ask the young Victor.

He nods mutely. Agnes takes his hands and leads him towards the District 3 station.

"Thanks Johanna," says Beetee, not lifting his eyes to meet mine. "He's been finding it…hard this year."

"Has he been…you know…hooked up?" I look across at his vacant stare.

"You mean morphling? No, not yet. I think he's already pretty numb. But thanks for giving him a hand out there…they're like vultures."

"It's no problem." I instantly feel bad for my conduct around him and Wiress last year. He's just a victim of the same thing I am but he's lived with it for longer.

"If you ever need anything…not that you would…from me I mean…I could help…I mean I will help." His eyes finally rise to link with my eyes. His ill-fitting glasses make them shine under the lights down here.

I feel such pity for him now.

"Thank you," I reply and briefly touch his hand.

He flushes bright red and mumbles something before scurrying off.

I survey the room around me. Districts 3, 5, 6, 9, 10 and 11 are all occupying their stations, some unpacking their overnight bags already, others staring hopelessly at the screens telling them how much sponsor money they have.

There's an enormous roar upstairs before a pair of strong hands pinch my shoulders from behind.

"Ow!" I moan. "Don't do that I'm tense!"

Finnick laughs.

"It'll make you feel better." He keeps pinching my muscles.

"No it doesn't! No it doesn't!" I writhe around under his poking and prodding fingers. I've finally found something Finnick Odair is awful at.

He stops with a chuckle.

"Well maybe if you'd got more sleep last night."

"Oh here we go, I used you and abused you, get over it," I retort, watching Sandy tapping around at the District 4 station. "How much have you got?"

"Enough, I think, providing nothing terrible happens of course. Not as much as last year, or the year before that. It's been getting less and less each year since Ann—since the 70th."

"Have you spoken to Byte much?" I nod to the District 3 area where Agnes is still holding Byte's hand and Beetee is crawling on the floor fiddling with something under the desk.

"Not since the Tribute Parade, he seemed a bit shell-shocked. I think it's all a bit—"

"Overwhelming," I say again. "Do you think Snow's 'friends' have sunk their teeth into him yet?"

"I don't know. He seems very distant."

"Is that what Annie's like when she flakes out?" The words have come out of my mouth before I've had time to think about them. I wheel around quickly to see if I've upset Finnick. I see his green eyes have gone soft and his brow slightly furrowed.

"Sometimes." His voice is quiet. "She's getting better but sometimes she leaves me and stares at something that I can't reach. I can't save her from the things that aren't there."

I don't know what to say so I grab his hands and put them back on my shoulders.

"Do you want to hurt me to make yourself feel better?"

He smiles and shakes his head.

"Oh go on! Give me a good squeeze!"

District 6 throw me a couple of dirty looks and we both laugh at them.

An unseen robotic voice piped into the basement speaks out,

"One minute."

Around us, every single Mentor is momentarily taken back to their own Games. We are all in our unique Launch Rooms. I am in my hunting lodge style room wearing my dark green thin combat pants, thin button down short-sleeved blouse and thin zip up hooded jacket with pink cuffs. My stomach hurts and I panic about not having my pinecone. I shake out of it and grab Finnick's arm.

He comes out of his own nostalgia and looks down at me, startled.

"I promised Hetty that if she won I'd make you date her," I tell him quickly.

"What?" He looks confused but I push through.

"Please! Don't make me a liar!"

He shrugs his shoulders relenting,

"Why not."

I pump my fist and add, "but I told her that you're really scaly under your clothes."

"What? Why?"

"Because you are, I see you naked enough!"

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do, you'd be naked now if you weren't afraid of your chair being so cold."

"And air-conditioning!" He exclaims and nudges me with his hip. "Go to your station. I am not scaly."

Our little exchange has pushed away the crushing reminiscence for us but there are others still bowing under it's steel weight.

Blight is one of them, pale and shaking.

"Ten…nine…eight…seven…six," the voice counts down. Hetty and Hemlock must be in their tubes. I wonder if Gaia has been sure to put Hetty's token directly into her hands before the countdown started.

"Five…four…three…two…one. Tributes launch."

Hetty and Hemlock will have been plunged into darkness in their tubes. We, in The Hub, are bathed in the light of more than three-dozen TV screens turning on. Our two Tribute screens are showing a blue waiting card that says,

'Tributes In Transit. Status- Alive.'

Blight has already keyed up our Sponsorship monitor with a menu of the prices for this year. Terrible. If I could trust them both to be sensible I'd have to send them all the supplies they might need today before the prices got any higher, but I can't. They seemed determined to hit the Cornucopia after all, of course they're not sensible.

After about fifteen seconds our screens come to life. The Big Eye in front of us all shows a sweeping aerial shot of a largely woodland arena, not unlike mine, but there is a wheat field to one side of the Cornucopia and a lake also runs along side the clearing that holds the golden horn.

There's Hetty on our left screen and Hemlock on the right. They're uniforms are a light green shirt with a large thin hooded jacket, like mine, leather boots and tawny pants.

Hetty is on the pedestal next to the blonde boy from District 12 and my chest feels tighter. Those District 12 Tributes have got something going on and I don't feel safe for her being so close to one of them.

When I look over Hemlock's screen a lump forms in my throat. He is in between Katniss and the redhead from 5: two girls I wouldn't trust with my worst enemy.

The gong goes.

'Get out of there', I scream in my head.

They _both_ ignore me.

Hemlock is fast, much faster than I ever knew. He is the third one at the Cornucopia and gets his hands on an axe.

A sprinkling of Tributes are running away and he chases after them.

"What are you doing?" I groan. I'm not the only one talking to my screen.

"Put it down!" A female voice shouts from a station behind us.

"Run, run!" Someone else cries.

"Damn you, idiot girl!" I hear Haymitch yell.

My eyes flick up to the Big Eye. Katniss is grappling with the boy from 9 over a backpack. The boy spits blood all over her and falls with a knife in his back. The nasty District 2 girl is running after her, knives poised to be thrown.

Hemlock overtakes her with his axe raised but in less time than the blink of an eye, he's down with a knife sticking out of his back.

Another blue card on his screen reads,

'Tribute In Play. Status- Deceased' and goes black.

Hetty has also made the run to the Cornucopia. She darts behind the spear-wielding boy from District 1 and rifles through some boxes of supplies, grabbing a large backpack. Hopefully it contains a tent or something. The District 3 male latches onto the strap of the bag as she tries to move away.

Both of them are wide-eyed and frightened but neither will let go. They are both relying on it to survive. They pull it back and forth between them like arguing toddlers and eventually, just like with arguing toddlers, someone else steps in. The District 1 boy knocks Hetty down and drives his spear into her gut.

'Tribute In Play. Status- Deceased'.

I fall back into the chair. Blight leans on his elbows on the defunct station, hands over his eyes.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes we've been in The Hub.

We stare at the Big Eye as the rest of the bloodbath plays out. The media professionals outside will be watching it all, so us Mentors can't leave until the cannons have sounded at the end of the bloodbath.

Katniss and the redhead have gotten away safely. The redhead is empty-handed but Katniss has her backpack and a sheet of plastic as well as a knife that the girl from 2 threw at her but she managed to commandeer.

The boy from 12, Peeta I discover his name is as Haymitch yells it across the The Hub, gets away but not far. The Big Eye keeps picking up his blond hair behind the trees. What is he doing there?

The eleven cannons finally boom through the arena and Blight and I get up. I look around to see who else is leaving with us.

District 6 and 9 are on their feet.

I catch Finnick's eye and put two thumbs down.

He mouths, 'I'm sorry' and then puts one of his down.

I mouth an apology back.

There goes my 74th Annual Hunger Games. Now I just wait around to be filmed leaving The Hub with the other shamed Mentors, and then at the Victory Interview. Or at least that's what is expected of me. I, however, know that I have a special engagement tonight.

Tonight I start making way for the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Tonight, I talk to Head Gamemaker, Senaca Crane.


	42. Seneca Crane

**Chapter Forty-Two- Seneca Crane**

I spend a little more time preparing myself for this 'date'. I didn't think the Gamemakers were allowed to leave the Control Room while the game is in play, but I guess being the Head Gamemaker has it's perks.

My slip of paper, which has been tucked into my bra every day I've had it, says that I am to make sure that I stay a favourite with him. Apparently Plutarch has talked me up so much that I'm actually going to have to make an effort tonight. I'm tempted to ask Gaia to help me but then, you know, I'd have to talk to her.

Lalaney is watching the Games live footage in the living area while I get dressed. A worry line creases her brow when I stick my head out and ask her whether this big brush is for make-up or painting a wall.

My first outfit choice is a short leather skirt with a tight, shiny strappy top. Lalaney turns me right around and tells me just to wear what I'd usually wear because I look like a hooker.

"Well…" I start.

"I know, I know! Just think practical. I don't know why you're making an extra effort for this one, whoever he is."

She's probably right. I won't be able to do my rebel business if I'm constantly pulling my skirt down or sweating in a latex costume. Instead I go for some high-waisted black cotton shorts with a black and white striped long sleeved shirt.

This one gets the Lilac seal of approval and I'm on my way.

The restaurant that has been selected is one of the fanciest places I've ever seen in my life. I'd say it's as lavish as the President's mansion.

I'm shown to a private room in the back. An enormous chandelier dangles above the table and I'm afraid one of those sparkling daggers will drop and spear me. Seneca is late.

I'm offered a glass of wine but I decline and order some water instead, need to keep my wits about me.

Eventually my hunger wins out and I order something to tide me over. Thus, when Mr Crane finally arrives I am fingers-deep in some sort of meat on the bone.

"Sorry I'm late Miss Mason," he breezes and holds out his hand to shake mine. He pulls a face when he realises how greasy my fingers are.

"Sorry I started without you." I wipe my hands on a napkin.

"No, no, it's my fault. Please continue." He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it neatly on the back of his chair, sitting forward so he doesn't crease it.

We sit in silence. I'm not used to this, usually my 'dates' gush about how much they love me but Seneca just eats slowly, cutting every bite of food into tiny pieces with his knife and fork.

This isn't going to work. If he doesn't talk to me how can I do my rebel job? It's important that he talks to me.

I finish my first course before him and link my fingers together, resting my elbows on the table.

"You know some people consider it rude to put elbows on the table," he muses, scooping another tiny bite onto his fork.

"Some people consider it rude to not call ahead if they're going to be late," I retort quickly and straight away regret it. Why does my mouth run away with me?

"Touché." He smiles and puts down his cutlery together, across the diameter of the plate. "I'm sorry I'm not very talkative tonight, it's been…a busy day."

"That's ok, I've got a nice meal out of it." I gestured to my empty plate. "And some peace and quiet."

"It is lovely isn't it? The quiet. I miss it this time of year." His eyes fade out wistfully and I notice the shadows.

"I imagine the Control Room can get quite loud."

He nods and drinks some of the champagne in his glass.

"You have no idea," he says. "In the arena the Tributes are sleeping, there might be a breeze through the leaves, it's peaceful. In the Control Room there's people running around panicking because the owl they've lined up to hoot on the hour every hour isn't making a sound. There are camera operators arguing over whether to use the branch camera or the skycam to film someone sleeping. Before I came out everyone was up in arms about the boy from 11 making it to the edge of the wheat field already. Plutarch, I think you know him, was going to cue up a mutt he's been working on to get him to turn around but it wasn't finished yet." He sighs. "That's why I was late, we had to search for bugs, because once the mutts out you can't call it back you see."

I nod, "I've encountered mutts before."

"Of course you have." He bows his head in apology. "Anyway in all our fussing the boy turned himself around and there was nothing to worry about."

The waiter brings us the second course, more meat.

"Is this gravy supposed to be orange?" I frown.

"It's a clementine jus," Seneca tells me. "It's quite sweet, taste it. Clementines from District 6 I think."

"Fruit from the Transportation District?"

"Yes, they tried to plant some in District 11 but they just wouldn't take by all accounts. Perhaps the soil was not right or the weather not favourable. There's a single work crew in 6 that harvest them and send them straight to the Capitol. It's only fair, it's not right for 6 to have the only clementines in the country all to themselves after all."

But ok for the Capitol to have them all to themselves? I bite my tongue on that one.

He is right though, the sauce is lovely and sweet. I stop short of licking the plate when I'm done.

Once we finish our meal he dabs at his mouth with a napkin and coughs awkwardly.

"So…err…I'm sorry I'm unfamiliar with all this…but what usually happens now?"

"Well," I reach across the table and stroke his hand with my fingers. "It's up to you Mr Crane. I've very much enjoyed this evening and I understand that you're in the middle of a busy time at work but the evening doesn't have to be over."

A blush comes over his cheeks and he lets out a long breath.

"Plutarch said you'd make it easy."

I'm surprised by him. He seems so in control of every aspect of his life except this.

"Is this the first time you've had…an arranged meeting?" I ask him in the car.

"Yes…my fiancée…she meets with Finnick Odair sometimes…she thinks I don't know but…"

Hmm interesting.

"So is this you getting revenge then?" I hold both his hands in my own and look into his brown eyes.

"In a way, I guess. A couple of the guys at work have been out with Victors before, Plutarch told me about you and I just thought 'why not?'"

"Well I'm glad you did." I'm making myself feel nauseous. Plutarch's done well here with the way he's played Crane, made him feel self-conscious about his fiancée's recreational activities and then let him make the decision to hire me himself.

Seneca's place is just as neat and organised as his conduct so far. Everything is gleaming white.

"Should I take my shoes off?" I eye the shining tiled floor.

"If you don't mind?" He pulls an apologetic face. "Rosie never remembers and our maid spends hours buffing out the heel marks otherwise I can't relax."

"Sure." I pull off my boots and tuck them under my arm.

"There's a little…" he opens a cupboard in a sideboard and reveals cubbyholes holding pairs of shoes. He takes my boots off me and slots them into an empty section. A place for everything and everything in its place is definitely a theme with him.

He turns the TV to The Hunger Games while I hang around on my feet because I'm afraid to sit on the perfect sofa.

"Please…" He pats the cushion next to him so I sit on the edge, just like him.

His eyes flick to the screen, probably searching for a sign of things going wrong in the Control Room. While he is distracted I look around me. On the coffee table in front of us is a picture etched under the glass. It's a map of some kind.

"Is this Panem?" I ask. I've never seen a map of our nation before. Everything I know about its geography is from the curriculum they allow us to be taught in school. I know that we are the very top edge of the country and that's why it gets so cold sometimes. Finnick has told me that District 4 and District 11 are in the warm south so that's why their Tributes don't do so well in the colder arenas.

Seneca chuckles at me.

"No, that's not Panem, it's the arena this year. Look there's the Cornucopia in the middle," he points at a horn shape in the middle of a circle in the centre of the table. "Here's the lake, the wheat field, forest, there's a pool around here and some caves over here. It's the biggest arena we've ever had."

"Is that to stop the Tributes from just walking out?"

"If they get to the edge of this arena they deserve to just walk out, but no. We'll pick them up way before they get there and if they do there's the force field stopping them."

"How interesting." I peer intently at the map, trying to remember everything I can about the locations. "How long have you been working on this?"

"About a year, we pretty much start planning the next arena as soon as we're done with this one."

"So have you already started planning next years?"

"Not yet. Everyone's started pitching ideas though. Not that I could tell you what they were of course."

"Why not?" I pout.

"Because your Tributes will have an advantage then wouldn't they?"

"So?" I smile and rest my hand on his thigh.

He laughs.

"Nice try. It's a Quarter Quell next year anyway so there might be a twist." He rests his hand on mine, squeezing it against his leg.

I lean into his body.

"What is the twist next year?" My lips are an inch from his.

I'm enjoying this whole evening a lot more when I'm in charge, when I have something to get out of it.

"I don't know," he whispers. "No one does yet. We have to wait until the envelope gets opened next year."

Well that's as far as I'm going with that line of enquiry then. Plutarch must have thought the Head Gamemaker would know by now.

Seneca kisses me, his lips still tasting of sweet clementines. It's almost…nice. I'm getting way too carried away with the sensation of not being used. I'm the one doing the using. I'm trying to get something from him. Have _I_ become the pervert here? Why am I enjoying this kiss so much?

I push him back gently and ask for some water.

When he goes to the kitchen I take another look around the room. Maybe there's something around here I can use.

There are photographs on the sideboard above where the shoes are kept. There's one of Seneca and a woman, who must be his fiancée, with a young girl in her arms. Does he have a child as well?

"Is this Rosie?" I ask him when he hands me my drink.

"Yes, that's her and her niece. Her brother is a widower, there were some complications during the birth and his wife died. Rosie's niece comes to visit us a lot to have some female company."

"That's nice." I replace the picture and add, "Is Rosie famous? Her face looks familiar to me, have I seen it on posters or something?"

"I doubt it, President Snow doesn't even like me having _this_ photograph of her."

"President Snow?" I stifle a gulp.

"Yes, she's Rosalind Snow, the President's youngest child. He's very protective of her." He corrects the line of the photo frame and wanders to the bottom of the stairs. "I've got another photo in the…in the bedroom…if you want to…"

I have that nasty sensation of an unexpected fall, the shock you feel when you think there's one more step in the dark and then there isn't.

I'm starting to feel like I'm being used again. What are the rebels thinking hooking me up with not only the Head Gamemaker but the soon to be son-in-law of the President?

With trepidation I follow him up the stairs to where there is a distinct and pungent smell of roses and the taste of clementines is sickening.


	43. Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't

******Chapter Forty-Three- Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't**

In many ways I think Seneca Crane has a worse deal than I do. The responsibility of being Head Gamemaker alongside the danger of being betrothed to the daughter of the nations dictator, it's a wonder he hasn't keeled over with a stroke.

I wonder what'll happen to him if…_when_ Snow finds out he's cheated on Rosie with me. I wonder what'll happen to me! The rebels really have sent me up a certain creek without the right canoeing equipment.

I'm worried about Finnick as well. Seneca had said that Rosie meets with Finnick sometimes. Does he know who she is?

Lalaney hasn't moved from the sofas when I get back. She's still in her nest of blankets.

"How was it?" she asks.

"The usual. Are there leftovers?"

She waves at the dining table. It looks like the food's barely been touched.

"Blight not eaten?" I frown.

"No, he hasn't appeared."

I sigh. He'll be drunk somewhere, maybe with Haymitch or one-armed Chaff.

"I'll go check the 12th Floor." I start towards the door again but Lalaney calls out,

"No, Haymitch'll still be in The Hub, his Tributes are still in."

"Both of them?" I lean over the back of the sofa to watch the screen.

Most of the Tributes have bedded down and the camera flicks around between them. Katniss has belted herself into a tree, the little girl from 11 is inside a log and the girl from District 8 is shivering in a sleeping bag on the ground not far from Katniss.

The Careers have set up camp around the Cornucopia with a huge stack of supplies. There's the awful pair from District 2 lying close together, back to back. District 1 sleep with weapons in their hands, the girl has firm hold of a bow. The District 4 girl is nestled inside two sleeping bags, it must be cold. There's another boy there too. It can't be the District 4 boy because Finnick had stuck a thumb down after the bloodbath. The mystery Career is small, just like the boy from 4 but has dark hair.

"Who is that?" I ask Lalaney.

"The boy from 3," she tells me. "I don't know why they've kept him. He whispered with the big one from 2, Cato, after the bloodbath but we couldn't hear what he was saying. Cato told the others that he'd be of use tomorrow."

That's interesting. The Careers have adopted the boy from the current reigning Victor's District. A group of six Careers…wait…there's one more. Who's the one on watch? There's a simmering fire that just about lights his face enough to see that he's awake.

"Is that…" I scowl heavily. "The boy from 12?"

"It is."

"What is going on this year?" I cry. "Firstly, the fact that both from District 12 made it out of the bloodbath, the star-crossed lovers thing and now this Peeta has betrayed his beloved to join the _Careers_ of all people?"

"I know," Lalaney smiles. "I know it's horrible but this is amazing television."

I turn my scowl on her.

"I really thought better of you Lalaney Lilac, Hetty and Hemlock are dead! Are you going to shrug your shoulders at their families and say 'It was amazing television'?"

"Of course not!" she exclaims, rising to her feet. "Of course I won't. I'm as gutted as you are that they're gone! You have to admit that this is the most interesting year we've had since you decided to throw yourself off a chariot like a pathetic ragdoll and then dismember the Careers one by one like a bloodthirsty assassin!"

"Oh I'm so glad that the worst period of my life was sooo entertaining for you!" I scream at her.

"Because being a Victor is _such_ a relief from the depression?" she screams back. "You know full well that Hetty and Hemlock are better off being dead!"

She stops dead and slaps a hand across her mouth, her eyes wide with shock at her own words. Although I think she's more afraid of the volume with which she spoke them.

Lalaney slips back down onto the sofa and turns back to the TV, her eyes vacant to it's content.

The silence bears down on the room crushingly. I can't stand it so I stomp noisily to my bedroom, slamming the door.

I bury my face into a pillow and scream. I scream and scream and scream. I scream because I feel useless. I scream because I feel taken advantage of. I scream because I feel betrayed by Lalaney, by the promise of a rebellion that can never happen, by my Tributes. Lalaney's right, they are better off dead. I'd be better off dead. I wouldn't be whoring myself to the Capitol. I wouldn't be some worm being dangled in front of the sharks, running the risk of being chomped to bits on every fishing trip.

I even punch the mattress a few times until I am breathless and red-faced.

Then I feel lonely. There's no one to hold me sympathetically, or apologetically after my tantrum. Where's Finnick? He hasn't come for dinner yet this year. I only see him once a year and he hasn't seemed bothered about coming to see me. Is it because of the rebellion? Is it because of Annie? Where's Blight? He's supposed to be _my_ Mentor, he's supposed to be here for me.

I think about crying but then eschew the idea. There's no point, it won't make any difference. Blight won't quit drinking because I cried. Finnick won't dump Annie because I cried. Snow won't let me go home because I cried. I don't even think I _can _cry anymore. It's a fruitless waste of energy, and I've already wasted enough with my rage.

I think about Lalaney. I feel bad for screaming at her, she was only commenting on the District 12 strategy after all. I know she gets it, her comment about Hetty and Hemlock being better off dead proves that. She's one of the good ones. She can be trusted. She can probably be better trusted than me; at least she gets stuff done. They should have really hired her into the rebellion instead of me. She'd get it all organised. She'd be better organised than Seneca Crane! She'd find a way of letting Finnick know that President Snow's daughter has hired him.

Hang on.

Have I sorted my own problem there? Answered my own question? Lalaney can be trusted, she gets the complications of being a Victor, and she'd find a way of letting Finnick know…

I grab a notepad and pen from inside my dresser and gingerly tiptoe back out to the living area.

"Lalaney?" I say tentatively.

She doesn't reply, so I scribble one word at the top of my page and sit down next to her, scribble on full show.

Her eyes scan along the word.

'_Sorry_'

"It's ok," she mumbles.

"Fancy a game of tic-tac-toe?" I ask, drawing out a grid.

She nods tightly and we take turns passing the pen between us.

Every time I make a cross I add a letter to the bottom of the page.

'_Secret_' I write first and she nods again. Then after a few games it reads:

'_Do u still visit 4__th__ Floor?_'

She nods a third time.

'_Tell F.: Rosie is a Snow._'.

A fourth nod and we finish our 'game'.

"I'm going to get an Avox to clear away the dinner table," Lalaney announces, getting up. "If no one's going to be eating." Her voice has exactly the same irritated tone it makes use of when she's chastising Blight for being late, or the Tributes for licking their plates.

"Sorry," I say, looking at the floor.

"You can make it up to me by getting a fire going, it's getting nippy when there's not many of us living here."

She strides to the door and glares, purposefully, at the fireplace. I catch her drift and rip away the top ten pieces of my notepaper.

"Waste not, want not," I tell her, throwing them onto the logs and pressing the ignition button on the mantelpiece. The paper turns to ash in seconds.

Lalaney disappears and I settle back down on the sofa. Peeta is drifting off to sleep.

'Don't sleep,' I think. 'Kill them all now, while you can.'

I switch it off and flick through the giant window's pre-programmed vistas, stopping at the pine forest. I lay down across the sofa and pull one of the blankets over my body. It's very warm with the fire blazing as well but I'm too comfortable to move. I start to get drowsy and slip into an odd dream where a naked Seneca Crane and a dapper-looking President Snow discuss roses…or Rosie.

The door to the suite banging open rouses me.

I sit bolt upright, my hands clutching a cushion.

Lalaney is supporting Blight…more like dragging him actually! I throw off the blanket and rush to her aid.

"Where's he been?"

"Goodness knows," she puffs. "Found him in the elevator, when it came to pick me up."

"Did you find…an Avox?" I ask carefully.

"Yes," she replies. "It was news to them but I don't think they'll be up to clear it away until _lunch_ tomorrow."

Ok, Finnick didn't know about Rosalind Snow and he must be in The Hub until lunch, or have a breakfast 'date'. I want to hug my Escort but I have to wait until we have deposited Blight onto his bed.

He mumbles Hetty and Hemlock's names a couple of times as Lalaney drapes the sheets over him. He's already being haunted.

When I embrace Lalaney under the pretence of making up after our argument, she whispers in my ear,

"Is it true? Is he mixed up with the Snow's?"

"Apparently. It's part of a plan," I whisper back.

"What sort of plan?"

"I can't tell you, it's too dangerous."

"I want to help. He's my friend too."

"No," I say firmly. "Your daughter."

I pull away from her so she can't add anything more.

"Good night Lalaney. I'm sorry again."

I go to my room, still feeling trapped, doomed and taken advantage of but at least Finnick now knows what he's into so I've been of some use.

I clutch my pinecone as I drift off to sleep. This time I dream about Plutarch Heavensbee sitting on my chest. It's hard to breath properly and I try to fight him off but I can't lift my arms. He leers over me laughing a wheezing laugh. Then his face shifts, grows a white beard and becomes President Snow. He presses his gnarled knuckles into my throat and grins.

When I wake up I realised the extent of the situation I'm in. Rebellion-wise, I feel damned if I do and damned if I don't.


	44. Coded Conversation

**Chapter Forty-Four- Coded Conversation**

After breakfast I give Joey a call to check on things at home. He tells me that everything is fine and Mother has started doing some gardening, filling three trash bags with weeds from our yard.

Egor's had another chest infection but a healer from town came to look at it and has given him some herbs to put into a bath to fix it.

He asks how I am. I lie. I talk more about the food I've been eating than how I've been feeling.

Lalaney turns on the TV first thing in the morning. We must have missed something interesting during the night because the Careers are returning to the Cornucopia and they are buzzing.

Glimmer comments on how alive she feels. Cato starts calling Peeta 'Killer'. They must have been hunting in the early hours and Peeta bagged a kill. I wonder who it was.

Thresh, the thick-built boy from District 11, is late to rise, all the other Tributes are up and about while he still slumbers in the wheat field.

The redhead from 5 is across the lake from the Careers, staring intently towards their camp. When she's sure they are all busy, she darts down to the water, scoops up less than half a bottle of water and retreats back into the woods. I wonder where she got the bottle from. Perhaps she crept up to the supplies while the Careers were hunting. If that's the case then she must have been awake all night, waiting for the right opportunity. Supposing she intends to stay close to the lake, she'll need to be invisible hence the dash to the water. However if she intends on staying close to the lake then she will be able to scurry back for more whenever she needs it. She is definitely very cunning.

Katniss looks like she hasn't slept either. She's dragging her feet; sucking on the bones of whatever game she's caught for breakfast. It must be the thirst. I remember the banging headache and blinding fatigue. I had my Uncle's sponsor gift when I most needed it, perhaps Haymitch will come to her rescue.

Blight emerges from his room at about half eleven, blurry-eyed.

"Where were you last night then?" I ask accusingly.

"I don't know some little cellar bar type thing in the city. Chaff was there I think…yes because I remember when I was trying to get up I asked him to give me a hand!" He dissolves into uncharacteristic giggles.

"Are you still drunk?" I gape.

"Maybe." He wipes away a tear. "There was a woman too…I can't remember her name…Bumblebee or was that her friend? She kept talking about her friend Bumblebee." He hiccups another little giggle. "She kept the drinks coming on behalf of him."

Bumblebee? Heavensbee? I bet they kept the drinks coming. I assume it was the same woman that he sent to talk to Finnick. What's Plutarch doing talking to more Victors?

"What did you talk about?" Lalaney's eyes are fixed on me as she asks Blight the question.

"I can't remember," comes the answer but he seems to have sobered up pretty fast. I'd bet my gold locket that he knows exactly what Plutarch's assistant, he and Chaff talked about last night and just doesn't want to say.

Lunchtime comes and now I can't wait to talk to Finnick. I almost run down to The Hub.

"Hey Jo!" Cashmere calls to me. "Sorry about your Tributes," she sneers.

"Yeah I'm sorry about yours too, they're just awful." I stride past her to the District 4 station.

"You know that one of her Tributes is her second cousin?" Finnick tells me as I park myself in the chair behind his desk.

"Well then awfulness runs in their family," I snap. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"Yup, just waiting for Mags to take over."

I fidget in my seat as we wait.

Haymitch is still in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday morning. He looks dehydrated too but not for lack of _water. _He's trying to go cold turkey. Well he has to, there's no one to take over from him at The Hub while he quenches his thirst.

I look over at the District 5 Mentor on duty to see who's been training the clever redhead. I think her name is Solange, she is just sitting back in the chair, her feet up on the desk, watching the Big Eye. I immediately rule out my idea that she's been handed a strategy based on mine by her Mentors. Solange clearly doesn't care.

Mags's slippers appear at the top of the stairs and Finnick immediately rushes to her side to help her down. She says something to him and he looks guilty.

"I'll do it later!" he whines.

"What?" I ask, giving up my seat for the elderly woman.

"I need to tidy my room." Finnick looks at the floor.

"Oh my!" I clap my hand over my mouth. "How old are you?"

"Mags doesn't like us to use the Avoxes because apparently they make us lazy."

"Clothes all on the floor," Mags puts in, pointing vehemently at Finnick.

I let out a loud guffaw and everyone jumps, startled.

"Out!" Finnick turns me around and marches me towards the steps.

He steers me towards The Pit and I'm a bit disappointed. I'd hoped we'd go somewhere more private but anything's better than watching the TV with Lalaney all day, waiting for the next red envelope to come in.

Finnick sits me down at the third table from the right. It's not at all busy here. It's only day 2 so no one's in desperate need for more sponsorship money yet.

"Why are we here? Is it Fish Day in the kitchen?" I try to peer around him to read the Specials Board behind the bar.

Finnick throws me a withering look,

"Do you ever think that you know me too well?" he says stepping out of the way of the enormous sign that reads,

'Todays Special: Battered Cod with thick-cut potato wedges'

"I'm selling information about you to the gossip magazines."

"I _knew _you were the one that told them about my love for long walks on the beach!" He orders two plates of fish for us. I plan to swap my fish for his potato wedges.

A couple of sponsors are also enjoying their fishy lunch and there's a healthy buzz of conversation, so after our food is served I try a bite of the fish and talk through it.

"Did you talk to Lalaney the other night?"

He nods, "She found me. I had no idea her daughter was such a big fan." He must mean Snow's daughter.

"No, I imagine that was quite a shock, you know, to find she had a crush on you."

"It was definitely a surprise. I'll have to be careful how I act around her now."

I widen my eyes, "You mean you're going to keep in contact with her?" What can I say to get my point across? "She's so _young_!" Powerful!

"I know but I don't have much choice do I?" He passes a few wedges onto my plate. "Lalaney is my _friend_ and I can't just ignore her daughter. It would be rude." Substitute Lalaney for Snow, friend for jailer and rude for punished.

The Pit is getting busier. I think some of the new arrivals are lesser Gamemakers on their lunch break. The tables around us fill up and we start having to be super careful about our conversation.

"I take it you've been approached recently about…a special propo for the Games?" Finnick asks me.

Propos are TV spots that The Capitol produces to promote the Hunger Games, to make them look more exciting. Sometimes Victors are in it talking about this year's Tributes and how excited they are to find out who's going to win. In fact it's all scripted and we get told who we want to win if our own Tributes aren't in it anymore. It's total propaganda, which is why we've taken to calling them propos. I've only appeared in one because it took so long to get me saying the words they wanted me to say with any kind of authenticity. It was deemed an inefficient use of everyone's time and I haven't been asked back. Finnick knows this so he must be talking about the rebellion.

"Yeah I have been approached," I stare deep into his eyes.

"I guess you've already made up your mind to be in it."

"I had…"

"But?"

"But my first rehearsal didn't go so well."

"Who did you have to talk about?"

"Head Gamemaker."

The blood drains from Finnick's face. I hear the news through his ears and realise that he thinks my 'date' with Seneca didn't go well. He's probably imagining all the ways Snow can torture me when he finds out I've been less than hospitable to his Head Gamemaker. He sits forward and takes my hand.

"And?"

"I didn't have anything to say. They gave me _no information_ that I could use to say anything! It was a complete waste of my time and theirs."

He lets out a held breath.

I mouth 'Sorry' to him and he shakes his head.

'You scared me' he mouths back and kisses the hand he holds.

"Have you been given anything to say?" I turn the conversation around to him.

"Not really, just to keep saying what I've always been saying and don't forget anything." I think he's talking about the secrets he gets from his 'clients'. I imagine he could get quite a few juicy ones from sweet little Rosalind Snow!

"You've probably got quite a good bank of useable material by now!" I point out quietly.

He nods with a tiny smile.

"Enough." Then he grasps my hand again. "I've got enough useable material for you to _not_ need to do this. Don't do this…this propo Johanna, especially not if you've got to talk about the Head Gamemaker."

"But I want to. I've got to. Joey's got three years until he's eligible to be reaped." I clasp Finnick's hand back. Anyone watching us would think we were two desperate lovers.

"Then let _me_ do the propo. You'll still benefit from it if I do it well enough, so will Joey."

"If they've asked both of us to do it, then they need both of us to do it."

"Can I say anything to change your mind?" he pleads.

I shake my head stubbornly.

"Mason." Finnick sighs exasperated.

That's the end of our coded conversation. I make a few more jokes about his untidy bedroom and he tells me that just as the sun rose this morning, Peeta and the Careers passed under Katniss's tree so now she knows about his betrayal.

When our plates are cleared, Finnick has to leave for a 'date' and he assures me it is _not _with 'Lalaney's daughter'.

He kisses me on the cheek before he leaves and tells me I'm an idiot. I watch him leave, along with at least three other women in the room.

"Don't turn around," A female voice comes from the table behind me. "I'm pretending I'm on my phone. Plutarch sent me, I'm Fulvia his assistant."

I take a sip of my drink and try to look nonchalant. So this is the woman Finnick has been meeting with.

"Scratch your head if you have any information about double Q." Quarter Quell.

I fiddle with my straw.

"Ok, you'll get further instructions today or tomorrow." I hear a shuffle that sounds like her gathering a large handbag. "Lovely to speak to you, see you soon," she says loudly and cheerfully. She doesn't leave though so I take it as my signal to get up.

Another mission on it's way for Agent Mason.


	45. What Lalaney Knows

**A/N Just a reminder about my Twitter account ( ArowanaFlounder) where I've posted links to the map I use for Panem and the article I used to work out how many children would be eligible for reaping in District 7.**

**Chapter Forty-Five- What Lalaney Knows**

My new mission doesn't come that day, or the next. I watch the Games a lot more than I normally would. Lalaney was right, this Peeta and Katniss thing is gripping stuff.

On day three Katniss drops from thirst. We wonder why Haymitch hasn't sent her anything. Blight comments that perhaps he was saving the money to spend on Peeta but we see no evidence of that either.

When Katniss falls to the ground she lies there helpless and we await her cannon. She gropes around the Earth around her and sifts her fingers through the mud.

"Come on you idiot, mud equals water!" I shout at the TV screen. After an agonising wait, the penny drops and she crawls to the pond not five metres from where she fell.

Lalaney gives me a sly look and declares,

"If only you were back in there ay Johanna, you'd show them what's what!"

"You're damn right," I reply, playing along, and then snort. "They can put me back in the arena when they drag me by my ankles. That is if they _dare _lay a hand on me."

"I don't think anyone is stupid enough to piss you off and then put you in an arena with an axe in the Cornucopia, Johanna."

"You'd be surprised," Blight adds sombrely.

I have a dinner date with a regular that night. He's not too bad, always sends me home with some Sponsorship money if I've still got some Tributes. This time he's sent me home with a bunch of lilies just before sunrise. It doesn't excuse the seedy nature of our transaction but when you've gotten used to being seen off with a smack on the ass, it's a nice alternative.

I see Finnick in the lobby heading to the elevator. He looks tired, perhaps he's been on a 'date' too, or the night shift in The Hub maybe. The elevator doors close before he sees me so I don't rush. Poor thing must be being pulled in about five directions while he's here in the Capitol, at least my Tributes drop pretty fast so I just have one direction.

When I get back up to the 7th Floor, the TV is _still _on and Blight is asleep on the sofa. The screen is showing sleeping Tributes. Rue is nestled in a hollow in a tree trunk and Katniss is belted into another tree. The Careers have risen early and Cato is giving strict, hissed instructions to the boy from District 3 who it seems is to be left to guard the supplies.

I'm picking at a bread roll that has been left out for me when I hear a crackling sound. It sounds like fire. Has Blight had the fire going? I look over at the fireplace and see it is dark and still. What is that sound then? A flash of colour on the TV screen catches my eye.

Fire. That's exactly what the sound was. Rue is shown to be still slumbering, safe on the other side of the arena, but Katniss is roused by the smoke.

Her eyes watering, she scrambles to abandon her perch, forgetting that she is tied to the tree by the belt of her uniform. A wall of fire is descending on upon her and she sensibly takes flight in the same direction as the fleeing animals. It's obvious that she's being driven towards the Career pack that is already out hunting her.

Lalaney will want to see this I think and go to her door. I move slowly though, because although she will want to know what's happening to this years most fascinating Tribute, I don't want to watch her burn to death and neither will Lalaney.

I knock gently on her door and get no reply.

"Lalaney!" I call. I don't want to walk into her room. The one thing I hate about the Capitol is the fact that everybody I've met here has completely forgone the decency of privacy so it's my little way of reminding myself that I'm better than them.

After a few moments I hear a rustling from behind the door and my Escort's bleary-eyes peer at me through a crack.

"What's going on?" she croaks.

"Something's happening, I thought you might want to see it." I jab a thumb back at the TV.

She slowly puts on a crisp white robe and follows me.

"Is it the little one? Rue?" she asks, a tinge of dread in her voice.

"No, well not yet, there's a forest fire. It's just Katniss at the moment but it looks like the Careers might be about to walk into it."

Blight is roused by our movement, he casts a glance at us, before putting a cushion over his face and rolling over to go back to sleep.

"Do you really think Rue stands a chance?" I ask Lalaney, thinking about her immediate reaction to me.

"I hope so," she says softly. "I just dreamt that she was my little girl. She's why I do all this. I couldn't bear the idea of her being taken away from me and handed over to people waiting to see her die. I try to look after the Tributes how I'd want someone to take care of my daughter. She'll be twelve in October, eligible for reaping if we lived in the Districts."

"My brother is nine, and not as lucky as your daughter." I nod.

"I know, I've met him," she reminds me. "And I've got a nasty feeling that if you keep doing whatever it is that you're doing that needs these secret codes, his name's going to end up in that pot five hundred and forty-three times."

"Five hundred and forty-three?" I gulp.

"That's how many boys were at this years Reaping." Lalaney says, curling her legs up under her on the sofa. "They give me a dossier every year with the District's statistics for my speech pre-reaping. Did you know this year there are twenty-eight more boys than girls of reaping age in District 7? Mr Calvus said that meant there'll be a boost in production in the next few years because although there are men and women in the team, the men work harder."

Urgh I can just see him rubbing his hands together and grinning his awful gold-toothed smile. I've met Petruchio Calvus a couple of times now, here in the Capitol, and was not at all surprised to find he's a sexist, money-grabbing, old coot.

"They just see numbers don't they?" I muse, taking a moment to add up the figures. "One thousand and fifty-eight 12 to 18-year-olds, one thousand and fifty-eight potential workers, Two Tributes from District 7, twenty-four from twelve Districts, one winner. Two Victors." I look over at Blight. "Three if you count Egor."

"Four," Lalaney interrupts. "There's Croft as well, he's in my dossier every year."

"Croft is still alive?" I exclaim and Blight stirs in his sleep.

"Barely," she whispers. "I've never met him either, apparently he's pretty sick. Supposedly he has a Capitol nurse that comes to check up on him once a month to change his enormous drip."

"I've never seen a nurse in the Victors' Village. I don't even know which house is his!"

"Well no exactly." She raises a suspicious eyebrow. "He's in there somewhere continuing to survive even though there's no record of him ever leaving the house or anyone going in."

"Gosh Lalaney Lilac," I gape. "What a lot of things you know…"

"You'd be surprised what you learn when you're nice to people Johanna." She smiles sadly at me. "Do you know Effie?"

I shake my head and shrug.

"No of course you wouldn't, you don't make an effort to remember anyone's name do you?" Ouch, there's almost a sting of venom in there.

"Is she in this room now?" I ask childishly. "Then I don't _need _to know her name."

"Effie Trinket is the Escort for District 12. All us Escort ladies went out for dinner tonight while you were out and she perhaps had one too many glasses of wine."

"And…"

"And she's said that for all the coverage 'The Girl On Fire' is getting, Peeta is the real one to fall for."

"The boy who betrayed 'the girl he loved' to join the Careers?"

"According to Effie, he really does love her." Lalaney purses her lips.

I sneer in reply, "Well he's got a funny way of showing it."

"He's joined the Careers to keep her alive! He's had them searching every ground shelter because she's 'afraid of heights', knowing full well that she's sleeping in trees! Effie said that he's clearly besotted with her."

"I wouldn't join with the Careers for anything in the whole of Panem," I say stubbornly.

"But you're not going back into the arena without a fight anyway," she giggles, recalling our previous conversation. "Honestly Johanna, if you went back in, you'd be the Career pack all by yourself!"

I can't help but join in with her laughter.

By the time our attention returns to the TV Katniss has taken cover behind a large stone and is vomiting up what little food and water she's consumed in the past few hours. She's thrust her backpack into her sleeping bag at some point during her escape but now she rummages around for something. She finds her bottle of water and uses the first sip to spit out the taste of the smoke.

There was an unprecedented heat wave in District 7 when I was six, which caused a small forest fire. We could see the smoke making black clouds above the skyline from school. Almost all of us had parents working out there so we all stared helplessly at the billows of black doom in the playground. The smoke was blown towards the hamlet and for about a week it was all I could taste. It was horrible. Thankfully only three workers out of over a hundred didn't make it out of the forest that day and their families were given medals to commemorate their bravery. I imagine it took longer for them to forget the taste of the smoke.

Just as Katniss has repacked her belongings there's an ominous hiss and a flying fireball hits the stone not far from her head. She springs up like a frightened hare and sprints with renewed terror, dodging and weaving the persistent fireballs.

The further she travels, the lazier the attack becomes. They're driving her back towards the others. Seneca, Plutarch and the other Gamemakers must want to see a face-off between her, Peeta and the Careers. She stops to retch again.

Beside me Lalaney has pulled the collar of her nightdress up to her nose to cover her lower face.

Katniss has only just realised that part of her hair has been burnt off. She fumbles with her blackened braid in dismay as another fireball sets her in its sights. She reacts slowly and it skims across her leg, setting her pants leg alight. Suddenly The Girl On Fire is actually on fire and she transforms from a brave, self-sacrificing Volunteer, to a screaming, flailing little child.

The assault ends as suddenly as it began. She must be near enough to another Tribute to give the Capitol citizens something interesting to watch over their breakfast. She stumbles, blindly feeling ahead of her with red-raw burnt hands. Her sizzling calf drags behind. If there is another Tribute around then she's easy meat.

The sun has risen at some point during her ordeal and light sparkles on the surface of a medium-sized pool, which she staggers into. The relief on her face is evident. She spends a while in the water bathing her burns and I lose interest.

I think about calling Joey again but then realise it's a school day so he probably won't want to be disturbed this morning.

I excuse myself to go to my room. I grab Blight's blanket as I pass him and he rolls off the couch.

"Go to bed." I tell him, following my own advice.

Before I drift off to dreams of smoke and burnt flesh, I think about the dossier Lalaney mentioned that contains statistics about District 7.

I wonder if the other Escorts have similar reports on their Districts… It seems like something…I yawn…something that Plutarch might…I rub my stinging, tired eyes…Plutarch might be interested in…the dossier…about each…Districts' population.


	46. Katniss and the Tracker Jackers

**Chapter Forty-Six- Katniss and The Tracker Jackers**

When I wake from my burning dreams it is only 10am but I've made up my mind about the dossiers. The rebellion _must_ benefit some how by knowing the population statistics for each of the Districts. Plutarch _must _be able to do something with the information.

I just don't know how to get hold of him. He or his assistant has always come to me…

I throw on some clothes, not caring how they look, and march down to The Pit where I will stay until I see Plutarch or Fulvia.

I order myself some breakfast and breeze through a superficial fashion magazine with an editorial piece on this years Tribute parade costumes. My blood runs cold when I flick past Hetty and Hemlock's faces. There's a double page photo of Peeta and Katniss in their black unitards, holding hands as their capes blaze behind them.

When I exhaust the magazine, I take to eavesdropping on other conversations.

"—wrote in weeks ago to get these tickets you understand."

"No!"

"Yes! _Weeks_!"

"—there's no way I'm putting _that_ much on District 12 but now I wish I'd put more on!"

I sit there twiddling my thumbs, listening to boring interactions, watching freakish looking people go about their shallow lives. I see Sandy but she pretends she hasn't seen me and sits with a newspaper on the other side of the eating area.

Beetee comes in and I pretend I haven't seen him, raising my magazine up in front of my face.

Eventually, around 6o'clock, I see Fulvia. She totters towards me on sparkling gold stilettos and sits on the opposite chair on the next table. I get my first proper look at the woman aiding the rebellion against the Capitol. She looks like typical Capitol stock: metallic silver hair, green long spidery eyelashes and silver flowers adorned on her cheeks. She has arms full of folders and paperwork, which she drops onto the table and a pen and a bundle fall onto the floor.

"Excuse me?" She leans over to my table, not even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Could I take a look at your magazine? When you're done with it I mean?"

"Err…sure." How could she not remember me? I don't want to seem bigheaded but…I'm Johanna Mason!

"Thank you darling!" she coos, fixing the smile to her face. While bending down to pick up the bundle she quickly and quietly adds. "Are you waiting for me?"

I nod.

"Fill out the word puzzle on page 21," she instructs me and then sits up reaching for a small black gadget and puts it to her ear. "Oh hi sweetie!" She waves me on.

'_The more of them you take, the more you leave behind, what are they?'_

I pick up the pen from under my seat and write: 'My Escort says she has access to a document with the population statistics for District 7, possibly every District in Panem.'

I close the magazine and slide it over onto her table.

She delicately puts a finger over the device in her hand and says,

"Oh thank you honey."

She continues talking but turns the pages of the magazine. She makes a very realistic show of reading it. It takes her at least ten minutes to get to the page I've written in.

"Oh!" she exclaims looking up at me still clutching her gadget. "Might I use the pen? I think you've got this puzzle wrong! Do you mind if I—?" She circles a manicured talon over the word puzzle and my secret answer.

"Go ahead, I think this is your pen anyway," I smile sweetly at her and then roll my eyes when she hunches over the page, just in case anyone's watching us.

She doesn't scribble for long and then pushes the magazine back over onto my table.

"I think _that_ is the answer."

It says underneath my 'answer': 'Where? Who could retrieve the information?'

"I don't know…" I say, trying to sound like I'm musing on the puzzle. "I don't know about the first part…of the puzzle, but the second part I definitely thought I could do it."

She nods briskly once and then says to her telephone device,

"Darling, I promise I'm on my way now, just give me one more minute."

"Could I take this with me? My partner is absolutely crazy about these sorts of brainteasers, I'm sure he'll know the answer. If you're around tomorrow lunchtime I'll let you know what it is if you're desperate to know."

I shrug noncommittally and characteristically.

"Well ok…" Fulvia pulls a convincing, irritated face and gathers her papers together, stacking the magazine on the top of the pile before she teeters away.

I feel satisfied that my information has been passed on and head back upstairs.

Blight is sat at the dining table, picking at some sort of fish dish with a tiny fork and Lalaney has a steaming mug of something in her hands at the sofa.

"The Careers found Katniss!" She blurts out at me as soon as the door is closed.

"She's dead then?" I flop into an armchair.

"No, up a tree," Blight chips in.

"With those burnt hands!" Lalaney exclaims.

"It's the adrenaline rush Lalaney," Blight murmurs. "You wouldn't know, you've never had to run for your life."

"Cato tried to climb up after her but the branches broke under him."

"He's a hefty young man." I nod.

On the TV screen, the District 1 girl is trying to climb the tree next.

She fails too, stopping as soon as she realises that she won't be going much higher. She has a bow and arrow though and sets Katniss in her sights. Two arrows sail completely out of sight and one gets stuck in the trunk of the tree just above Katniss's head.

"Why does she even have that bow?" I ask. "Blight could have made that shot!" I flick a quick glance over at him. "Sorry Blight."

"That's ok," he says sadly into his fish.

The Careers gather at the base of the tree in conference. While they are talking, I take my own conference with Lalaney. Leaning on the arm of my chair, I whisper,

"What you told me last night about the dossier…"

"Yeah?"

"Where are they kept? Do you have one on you now?"

"No, no. They're kept in the Escort Headquarters on Diamond Avenue. There's a big building that we share with some of the government offices. One of them is The Population Division, that's how we get the dossiers. No one apart from the workers from The Population Division can access the numbers, so everything we get are put together by them first."

The Population Division, what an interesting name for a governmental office, I love it when offices do exactly what they say on the tin.

On the TV, Peeta pipes up,

"Oh let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning." He must have noticed that night is swiftly approaching and if they couldn't hit her with a bow and arrow before, they certainly won't after nightfall.

Katniss has realised this to and is shimmying down the tree to settle herself for the night. She seems to be struggling with her leg and her hands look red raw.

"I don't know why they don't just climb a stronger tree along side and take her out that way." Blight tells his dinner plate before he licks it clean.

"Or burn it down…" I add.

"I'm sorry, I've never had to 'run for my life' but wouldn't that start _another_ forest fire and probably kill them all?" Lalaney puts in.

"Standard Johanna tactic then," Blight smirks.

"Suicidally brilliant," I tap my head knowingly. "Which reminds me, Lalaney will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"If it's going to be suicidally brilliant, I'm not sure I want to…" she gives me a funny look and retracts her hands to her heart.

"In The Pit, all legit I swear." I draw a cross above my chest to convince her.

The Careers are starting a campfire under Katniss's tree. The camera behind her shows her looking down at them. Then something catches her eye. We can't see what it is but then the camera angle changes and we can see Katniss from the front. The camera must be in a tree opposite because an animal slowly crosses in front of it. Another picks it up again, the dark springy hair and slight frame of Rue is unmistakable.

"A new contender," I murmur and Lalaney leans forward in her seat.

She's pointing up at something. Could it be a parachute for Katniss's injuries? Or a distraction technique before she uses the slingshot she'd fashioned herself to knock Katniss out of the tree?

The screen pans upward and we see what Rue had been pointing at: A Tracker Jacker nest.

Katniss gulps audibly.

"Game over," I say.

"No, no," Lalaney points at the TV. "It's not humming very loud. We'd have been able to hear it from the start…there's something wrong."

My mind flashes back to Father finding a wasps nest in a tree near where we'd been camping one weekend. I'd cowered in fear but he told me…

"The smoke from the fire has sedated them!" I quote. "They'll be dozy as anything for a couple of hours."

Katniss is climbing back up towards the nest, a knife in her sore hand.

Below her the Careers are pooling their supplies for dinner when the anthem plays and the Capitol seal shines in the sky. They all turn to look at it and Katniss immediately starts sawing, using the anthem to cover the noise.

A terrible part of me can't wait to see the nest fall on the skyward-looking bullies below. An even worse part of me wants to see the tracker jackers wake up and attack Katniss for thinking she could manipulate this obvious danger.

The sky goes dark again (no stars this time) before Katniss is finished. She still has at least a quarter of the branch to cut through but she stops and slides back down to her perch.

"Is that an owl?" Lalaney asks.

"Where?"

"On her sleeping bag, what is that?"

Katniss looks weary at first as well before relief spreads across her face. We see a close up shot of it and see the shimmering light of the Careers' fire reflected in the plastic of a pot attached to a silver parachute. Haymitch has come through for her and sent her something.

She opens it hungrily and sniffs its contents.

"Ointment," Blight says. "That'll have cost a pretty penny."

"Oh good!" Lalaney claps her hands in relief.

Katniss will have a more comfortable night now with her medicine. Whether she'll sleep with the tracker jackers dangling over her is another thing. I know how she feels.

The next day I take breakfast by myself. Lalaney hasn't moved from the sofa and is still sleeping under the blankets when Katniss wakes.

She checks her burns and is obviously happy with what she sees because she stares at her hands with wonder. She puts another layer of salve on her leg and throws down a quick breakfast.

I nibble on a piece of toast as she climbs back up to the nest and assesses her progress. Her eyes search the trees around her. To my surprise she calls Rue's name. Idiot! The camera flicks quickly to the Careers to see if they awaken. Why haven't they kept a guard?

There's a sound in the trees and Katniss recommences her Woodcutter's task. The rustling must have been Rue clearing out. Katniss had warned her, perhaps as a thank you for pointing it out in the first place. Ok, that was a pretty decent thing for her to do.

I shake Lalaney awake to watch the literal fall out.

The nest comes alive after a few strokes with the knife.

One of the golden wasp muttations lands on Katniss's leg and I see Lalaney twitch her own leg involuntarily as if to shake it off. It stings Katniss violently and she winces silently.

Finally the nest falls. It bursts like a balloon right in the middle of the Careers' camp. A couple tracker jackers have stayed in the tree and they sting Katniss in the face and neck.

"Don't fall out of the tree," Lalaney whispers, holding her blankets up to her face.

Tracker jacker venom can produce horrible hallucinations in those lucky enough to escape with only a few stings, in other cases it can kill.

It's the Careers on the ground that really need Lalaney's prayers. Most of them are alert enough to drop everything and run. Peeta gets away.

"To the lake!" the girl from 2, Clove, screams.

It's too late for the pretty blonde from 1. She's taken maybe thirty stings by now. She screams for help but either no one hears over the deafening hum of the swarm or they don't care to come back.

Finnick's last remaining Tribute, the girl from 4, makes a run for it but plum-sized welts are coming up all over her. I don't think she'll make it very far. The camera tracks her for a few metres and cuts away the moment she falls. Poor Finnick.

Glimmer is dying in one of the least dignified ways I've ever seen on The Hunger Games. Her entire body has swollen. She has almost no distinguishable facial features anymore. She is lying, twitching, on the floor, still gripping her useless bow.

Katniss is gone. We catch up with her dashing through the trees, no more wasps are around but she's running as if the whole swarm is behind her. She throws herself into another little pond…is it the one she'd been in before?

"Why has she done that?" I exclaim. "The trackers are gone! If she can stand from the venom she could have taken the supplies they've all left behind!"

I think the same thing dawns on Katniss because she shakily gets back on her feet, turning back around to return.

She's stumbling though, goodness knows what she's seeing, her eyes are flitting around staring at invisible things.

A cannon fires just as Katniss finds the unrecognisable corpse of the beautiful girl from District 1.

We see a quick shot of the rest of the Careers flinging themselves into the lake.

"Are they still coming?" Clove screams, she has three stings down her arm and one just under her shin.

"No!" Cato calls back, his hand cupping an enormous sting under his right eye.

"We left our weapons, Cato!"

"I know!"

"I'll go!" Peeta shouts, making his way out of the water first.

"No!" Cato is after him quickly. "You must be as stupid as you look if you think I'm going to let you take all our weapons Killer!"

"Cato! Stop it!" Clove is screaming at him, slowly splashing through the water herself, fighting the effects of the poison. "Stop it! If he wants to go back to those damn bugs then let him!"

"No, go back to camp Clove, make sure that baby from 3 is doing his job!"

Peeta is on the bank and sprinting through the trees, Cato hot on his heels.

We see Katniss again. She's struggling to relieve Glimmer of her bow.

"She's tripping," I murmur to my Escort.

She falls backwards in horror a number of times and screams at the corpse. It's painful watching her slowly teasing the bow off Glimmer's swollen, stiff body. Any minute now the two boys are going to crash through the bushes and hack her down like a weed.

She just about has the bow in her hands when Peeta falls, not two metres away from her, in front of the spear he'd dropped. He grabs it and throws himself through the final bush surprising her.

They stare at each other.

"Time to test Effie's theory," Lalaney says quietly.

"What are you still doing here?" Peeta demands with a hiss. "Are you mad? Get up! Get up!" He pokes her with his spear.

Cato sounds closer.

"Run! Run!"

Cato has also found his sword and bursts through some more bushes. Katniss does as she is told and runs like someone not sure if they're dreaming: fast but with no urgency.

Cato's eyes widen in rage as he rounds on Peeta.

"You're helping her now?" he spits, his right eye winking of it's own accord from the sting.

He doesn't even let Peeta answer him, he slashes out at him and catches his upper thigh. It spurts blood and Peeta cries out. He rolls onto his front and crawls away. Cato looms over him again slicing at his arm.

"Cato!" Clove's voice calls through the trees. "Cato! Help, I can't see…" She's stumbled after the boys even though the tracker jacker stings are slowly attempting to shut down her body.

Cato looks torn between going after Peeta and running to help his District Partner.

In the moment of hesitation Peeta has scrambled away from him and into the forest.

"You'll bleed out before your pathetic Mentor will scrape together enough money to save you!" Cato laughs, turning on his heels to find Clove.

I leave it there. Peeta probably will bleed out and die crawling on the ground unless his has the sense to make a tourniquet. He certainly won't get very far. Katniss will pass out from the venom and be found and killed by another Tribute as she sleeps. There will be two District 12 families with an extra space at their dinner tables after today.

I turn off the TV and ask Lalaney to get ready for lunch. Hopefully what I'm about to discuss with Fulvia and my Escort will mean that District 12 won't lose any more children this way.


	47. The More I Want To Do It

**Chapter Forty-Seven- The More I Want To Do It**

Lalaney and I are at a table in The Pit by 12:30.

I tried to give Finnick a call about the loss of his Tribute before we left but Mags mumbled that he wasn't in, on a 'date' apparently.

Lalaney tells me about her daughter's school play over our lunch of a tender meat with fancy sauce. I tell Lalaney about the plays we used to put on in the schoolyard. They were completely unorganised and unauthorised but I discovered a flair for pretending.

"You do surprise me," Lalaney rolls her eyes, sarcastically.

There's no sign of Fulvia and I start to struggle to keep Lalaney here with me. I'd brought her to hide behind. It might have looked suspicious if I'd come back down by myself just to get the answer to a word puzzle. At least with company I can pretend she has brought me down here.

"Can't we leave?" Lalaney moans after I've been staring over her shoulders for twenty minutes in front of our empty plates.

"No, not yet," I tell her.

"Why not? You said this was legit!"

"Shhh it is!" I hiss.

Finnick appears and sits at a table by himself. I think about waving him over but the look on his face halts me. I decide to watch instead.

He twists a stirrer in his drink between his fingers, his eyes staring deep into the golden liquid, whatever it is. I wonder if he's thinking about his Tributes, both of them on their way home now, sleeping in a wooden coffin on a hovercraft bound for District 4.

A familiar pair of sparkling stilettos clips across the floor and Fulvia slides into the seat opposite Finnick. She leans over the table to air kiss him and lays a hand on top of his, batting her spidery eyelashes.

I roll my eyes.

"What now?"

I'd forgotten about Lalaney again.

"Nothing, here." I slide over some money. "Get yourself a drink."

"No."

I grit my teeth.

"I don't want to have to hurt you."

"What is going on?" she whispers ferociously.

"I'll tell you later!"

"Is this about the doss—"

"Shut up!" I almost scream and lower my voice. "You don't know who's listening!" I hiss.

Finnick is raising Fulvia's hand to his face, pressing it to his cheek. He kisses the inside of her wrist, all the way down to her palm. She giggles girlishly and I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat. What are they up to? She's not asking him for another 'date' is she? He seems to be all over her, I've never seen Finnick on a 'date' before but I've always assumed he was like me: standoffish to the point of rudeness.

Eventually Fulvia tears herself away and totters over towards my table. She doesn't sit. She drops the magazine to the table. I think I see something small, grey and plastic in her hand but she tucks the hand quickly into her pocket and says,

"There's your answer hun," before striding away.

I ignore my Escort's stare and tuck the magazine under the table on my lap.

"It's not legit is it?" she says softly.

When we get back up to the 7th Floor Blight has gone out with Chaff, a note tells us.

I go to my room but Lalaney follows me.

"I'm going to need to take a look at your things, Johanna." There's sternness in her voice and all of a sudden I feel like I've been caught doing something naughty.

"Why?"

"The company that owns the Training Center are getting fed up of things going missing every year. I've got to do periodic searches of your bags I'm afraid." She pushes past me and motions for me to shut the door. I do as I'm told.

"What's going on?" She glares at me.

I open my mouth to answer but she cuts in again.

"And don't tell me it's nothing. It's to do with what I told you the other night isn't it?"

I nod.

"What did that woman give you?"

I push the magazine across the bed towards her. She picks it up and sits down. She flicks through it and winces when she passes Hetty and Hemlock's photograph.

She comes across our 'puzzle page' and reads the notes, along with the answer,

'Sit tight. Help to follow. B.'

B. Heavens_bee_. Help to follow though. What help could they give me? I hope they're not going to suggest someone comes with me, I think it's obvious by now that I don't play well with others.

"What does 'help to follow' mean?" Lalaney verbalises my own thoughts.

"I don't know." I hope it comes quickly before I lose my nerve, though I'd never tell anyone this.

"Where is this information going? If I'm going to be involved in this I think I should know whose running this."

"You're not going to be involved Lalaney, I told you."

"I took that message to Finnick for you, I'm already involved!" she exclaims, a brief portrait of panic crosses her face before it quickly returns to it's stern, motherly shape.

"Then you need to get out as quick as you can." I nod towards my bedroom door. "Because when all this goes down, there won't be a single safe place in all of Panem. If you stay here and want to have this information then you're choosing a side that could end up getting you killed."

"Then why have you chosen it?"

"I told you, my brother will be of reaping age soon. Someone else's little brother is of reaping age now. Someone's sister puffed up like a pus-filled balloon this morning in front of the whole nation. It has to stop. The people here swan around taking pills to make them vomit up food so that they can eat more, while District children die of starvation in the street. You have your fancy silk and bright fashions while the District 8 houses fall down around their helpless occupants."

She stares disbelievingly at me.

"If all that's true…" Lalaney says carefully. "If it's true then I definitely want to help. Tell me, are you working with District rebels?"

I nod slowly and open my mouth to tell her more but she stops me with one perfectly manicured nail.

"Don't tell me anything more than I _need _to know. Are you…" she looks around furtively and lowers her voice, "…going to steal the dossier?"

I nod again.

"Then you're going to need my help."

"No." I say firmly. "I'm still not sure how I'm going to do it but you're not involved in this one."

"You won't be able to get in on your own."

"Lalaney, whenever I do this, you're going to be as conspicuous as you can be. Sit right in the middle of The Pit with some friends, lots of witnesses so they don't think you have anything to do with it."

"Johanna they're going to know it was you! Who else could it be? I'm being conspicuous, Blight's his usual mess, who else could have stolen District 7's dossier?"

"I'm not going to be stealing District 7's dossier!" I hiss, a fierce look in my eyes. "I'm taking them all."

Lalaney takes in a sharp breath as if she is about to reply to me but then thinks better of it and just walks away, closing my bedroom door behind her.

I don't see her again all day, in fact I don't leave my bedroom. I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do. I know the Population Division headquarters are on Diamond Avenue…but where the hell is that? Furthermore, how the hell am I, a Victor from the Districts, going to just walk into a government building?

It's about 10pm when I admit defeat. I am going to have to accept help from Lalaney.

I also decide that it's time I ate again.

There's no sign of Blight or Lalaney and for once the TV is off. It's peaceful. I press an ear to Lalaney's door but I don't hear anything from inside, she must be out.

I ask a lingering Avox to bring me something small but filling. He nods and goes to the door. When he opens it, I hear something large slump to the floor.

"Hey are you ok?" I step around the dining table to see if the Avox has passed out.

"Hey!" a less than tuneful voice sings.

Finnick is lying on the floor just inside the door.

I catch the Avox's eye and say, "I'm not so hungry anymore."

He pulls a sympathetic face and steps over Finnick to give us some privacy.

"Come on, on your feet Odair." I heave at his arm, knowing full well that if he doesn't want to get up, I won't be able to manhandle him into it. "You stink!"

"And you're mean!" he announces, then giggles.

"Yup, thanks."

He rolls up onto his knees and then slowly gets up on one leg, then the other, albeit shakily.

"I'm sorry I haven't be up to see you much this year Mason," Finnick mumbles as we hobble towards the sofa.

"That's ok, you've been busy." I awkwardly rub his arm in a way that I hope is reassuring.

"No, it's not ok!" he slurs. "I love you Mason! Ok? I love you and I wanted to tell you because life is fleeting right? And. And you should know. That I love you."

"I see," and I do. I change our course and instead lead him to my room.

As soon as we are both over the threshold, I shut the door and turn to hiss at him.

"You are such a faker!"

"Say who?" He lies down on my bed, hands behind his head.

"Says you!" I perch on the edge of the bed and poke his stomach. "With your 'ooh I love you Mason'! What are you really here for?"

"To confess my undying love for you!"

"It's funny that you're not slurring anymore Odair."

"It's so sad that you're so cynical. Come here, you need a hug."

His finger and thumb circle around my wrist and pull me down to him.

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do, come on, just a little cuddle."

"No! Get off!" I try to pry his hand off my arm but he catches my other hand and brings them down to either side of his head. I lose my balance and fall on top of him.

He clamps a hand on the back of my head, tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"You actually do stink." I mumble against his throat.

"And you have an issue with intimacy, just shhh." He strokes my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I hate people touching my hair and he knows that.

"You're going to be getting a present," Finnick whispers.

"I am?" I reply alike.

"You'll get two devices. One will be an ID chip to get you into the building and through a few doors, the other will be a scanner."

"A scanner?"

"Yes you'll have to flick through every page, scanning the contents. Under no circumstances are you to remove anything from the building." He pauses, then adds, "Look Mason, that's all I know they don't like sharing details around so I don't know where you're going or what you're going to be scanning, but don't do this unless you know you can do it."

"Not you too," I moan. "I'm doing this to do my part. The only thing I've done so far is sleep with the Head Gamemaker. I feel useless."

"Well don't let that drive you into doing something stupid."

"It's too late for that! I'm doing it, and the more you say I shouldn't, the more I want to do it."

"Standard Mason."

"Thank you, now let go of me or you're going to have to start paying Snow for this time."


	48. Beautiful and Dangerous

**A/N- They've cast Johanna! What does everyone think about the casting?**

**Chapter Forty-Eight- Beautiful and Dangerous**

I'm woken by the mattress sinking beneath me, and then it pinging back up again. There's the sound of the springs being tested too.

"I'm not even awake yet." I moan at Finnick. "What are you doing?" I peek through my eyelashes and see him bouncing on the bed on his knees.

"Rocking your world," he replies, very matter-of-factly.

"Oh that's what that is. I thought it would feel…you know…better."

"Come on it's fun." He jumps up onto his feet and bounces a little harder.

"Urgh, how old are you?"

He bounces particularly sharply and I'm sprung right off the bed.

"Look you're up now, come on bounce with me!" He holds out his hand and pulls me up onto the bed. No sooner have I got my bearings than he shoves me back down onto my ass. I cry out in surprise and then clamp my hand over my mouth. That cry sounded like we were doing something naughty in here! His grin tells me that was his meaning all along. He offers his hand again and I tug him off balance so that he too falls with a loud grunt. I quickly climb on top of him, straddling his middle, but keep bouncing on my knees.

"Look now I'm rocking your world."

He chuckles and rubs his hands around my knees.

"You look good from this angle."

"Don't be foul, you've already dragged me into this disgusting theatrical production of yours."

"Aww but it's fun!" he moans, pouting. "Come on, give me your best."

"My best what?"

"What do you do that makes the Capitol men think they've satisfied you?"

"I don't beat their faces to the ground. That's what I do."

"Mason!" He rolls his eyes. "You need a real man to fulfil you. Maybe all your pent up aggression will just fade away afterwards."

"Holding auditions this afternoon," I say. "Now, I'm going to get some breakfast, do you want anything?"

He sits up, leaning on his elbows, an eyebrow cocked.

"You know what I want." He makes the springs squeal a few more times and then looks at me expectantly.

I grit my teeth and give him one loud, wanton groan.

"Happy?" I cock my head at him.

"Ecstatic," he replies. "Just don't move for a minute."

"Urgh! Filth!" I exclaim and clamber off the bed quickly.

He chuckles and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

"I better go, don't worry about breakfast." He pulls on a shirt and his pants while I wrap a robe around my pyjamas.

There's a knock on my door, and Lalaney's face appears in the open crack.

"Hey Lalaney, good to see you again," Finnick says, doing up his flies.

"Good morning Finnick, I've got mail here for Miss Mason." She waves a red envelope in the air and my shoulders slump.

Finnick pinches my shoulders and as usual when he tries his appalling massages I wince and writhe out of his reach.

"Finnick's just on his way out, clear the way." I take the envelope and push my Escort back to open up the door properly. "Out Odair."

A cheeky grin on his face, he shuffles past us, kissing Lalaney on the cheek and slapping my ass. I kick him in his on the way through the door.

"Have fun this morning?" Lalaney asks me with a sly smile on her face.

"Oh yeah, didn't you hear?" I roll my eyes.

"I sure did." She nods knowingly. "You know I used to work with District 4, I'm very familiar with the sound of Finnick jumping on the bed."

"Caught." I tear open the envelope with a little more force than I meant to and the paper falls out…along with two items.

"What's that?" Lalaney picks up one of them, it's a black oblong with a slight curve to one of the longer sides.

"I don't know. What's this?" I hold up a small grey plastic square with an electrical chip on one side. It looks familiar.

Lalaney gasps.

"It's… it's…" She fondles around in her blazer pocket and fishes out a similar chip. "An ID!"

I unfold the letter that came as well.

'Your help. Tonight. Disguise your face. A car at 6. B.'

It's the two devices that Finnick told me about. If the grey square is the ID, then this oblong must be the scanner. Wait, Finnick! I knew I'd seen the grey square before! It was what Fulvia had in her hand when she tossed me the magazine! Finnick must have had it and put it in her hand when he kissed down her arm. Clever boy! But where did he get it from in the first place?

"Why is Snow sending you a Capitol ID?" Lalaney frowns.

"He isn't," I reply, still studying the short letter. "What better way to pass information undetected than by using the Presidents own seal." I say to myself, putting the paper to my nose. It doesn't smell. The envelope smells of roses like usual, but the paper smells clean, fresh.

"Can you trust it?"

"I think so." I hope so.

"Is it for your….thing? With the…people?"

I nod.

"When?"

"Tonight. Will you help me do my make-up?" I need to be unrecognisable so who better to ask than a Capitol citizen.

"Gaia would be a better bet for that kind of thing you know." She looks meaningfully into my eyes. "She has better…stocks."

"What would we say to her? I practically screamed at her before the Tribute Parade because she touched my hair."

"Just say you want to look a bit different so people don't recognise you while you're out."

"Will you call her?"

Lalaney agrees and scurries away to find her little gadget that seems to have everyone's telephone number programmed in. I go to my wardrobe and throw open the doors to search my limited collection of clothes for something that would pass as Capitol chic. To be fair, all of it is Capitol-made but it's also mostly my taste. Practical pants and shirts with the odd easy-to-remove-easy-to-put-on evening dress for 'dates'. It's all too normal. I need something flashy but not too flashy. I don't even know what kind of thing I'm looking for.

I go to Lalaney's room to have a poke around her clothes. There's a lot more choice here, but still nothing quite right. She wears dresses with vibrant patterns on them but they're sort of…motherly. I need an outfit more like…Effie Trinket's. She's young-ish. I've seen her in The Pit a couple of times and since Lalaney's told me her name, I've taken a little more interest in her.

I call out to Lalaney, and Blight if he's listening, that I'm going for a walk. I get no reply.

My walk takes me as far as the elevator, and then from the elevator to the door of the suite on the 12th Floor.

I bang three times before a man opens the door. It's not Haymitch.

"You must be Cinna, the stylist." I offer him my hand.

"Johanna Mason, the Victor." An amused smile plays across his lips as he gives my hand a firm shake.

He looks relatively…normal for a Capitol citizen. I'd seen him at the Interviews with Caesar Flickerman but not really noticed this rather unique characteristic. He has gold eyeliner which I guess is part of the Capitol fashion but that's it.

"I'm looking for Effie," I tell him.

"She's out I'm afraid, looking for Sponsors to try and wake up Katniss."

"Aww still snoozing is she?" I can't help the venom in my voice.

Cinna crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, blocking any hopes of entry.

"Did you come here for a reason or just to gush about our Tributes?"

"I need Capitol clothes and my Escort is a little old and not really my shape."

"You need clothes?" He cocks his head to one side.

"Yes."

"I'm a stylist, talk to me."

I remember Katniss and Peeta, blazing their way down the streets in their chariots with their costumes on fire. I remember Katniss twirling dramatically in her smouldering dress at the interview.

"Are you going to try to set me on fire?"

He laughs and leans away from the door.

"Come on in, I'll find something for you."

He's surprisingly accepting of my odd request. He gathers some clothes from what I assume to be Katniss's room and sneaks some from Effie's too. He ploughs his way through countless stretches of fabric muttering to himself.

"I would have loved to style you back in the day, Johanna," he says to a bright yellow shimmering piece of material. "Look at this, it would have been ideal: as bright and beautiful as starlight on one side…" he flips it over to reveal a jet black reverse, "as dark and dangerous as midnight on the underside. I was in my second year of fashion school that year and I designed a Victor's Interview dress for you as my coursework. Everyone laughed at the very idea that you'd survive when I previewed my design."

"Lovely," I say a little churlishly. "But I don't want to look like me 'back in the day', I want to look like a Capitol person."

"I'm getting there," he replies softly, still stroking the yellow 'starlight'.

It takes him about an hour to unstitch two outfits and restitch them together for me to wear. I have to admit, it's pretty good.

There's a strapless black dress with added padding at the bust to enhance my already enhanced breasts, making them look monstrous to me. Over the top I have a bronze jacket with puffed up shoulders and bronze ruche flowers around the neckline. Cinna has also somehow turned some tube socks into long gloves for me. One of Effie's scarves took a few snips to make it into an enormous bow that flops down over one side of my face.

When Cinna stands me in front of the mirror I'm speechless.

"I look just like one of them…I mean one of you."

"I haven't counted myself as one of them since my first year at fashion school," he breathes into my ear. "Do you have someone to do your make-up?"

I nod, "Yes Gaia's going to do it for me."

"Good, don't let her see this outfit." He turns me around and holds his hand out to me. "Good luck Johanna, with whatever you're doing."

I shake his hand again and then hug him.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"You're welcome. Here…" He takes a hold of the bust of my dress and turns a little of the hem inside out. It's bright yellow on the inside. "Dangerous on the outside, beautiful on the inside. That's more like the Johanna Mason of the present."

I smile, then purse my lips.

"And how many colours are there underneath your clothes Cinna?" I pluck at the collar of his black shirt.

"Honey," he says, straightening back his collar and putting his lips to my ear rather seductively, "I'm black all over."

I laugh and kiss his cheek.

"Nice try, but now I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room while I strip down. I'll see myself out."

He pretends to look disappointed but takes a step towards one of the bedrooms anyway.

"You'll make sure Gaia does a proper job with the makeup won't you? I'm not having my design forJohanna Mason get spoilt by her cackhandedness with a makeup brush."

"Of course not. Now off you go." I give him a wave and make sure the door is properly closed before I shrug off the jacket and unzip the dress.

I hope Cinna doesn't make a habit of hitting on young women, or Peeta's definitely got his work cut out for him. Of course Katniss might be different but I found that exchange rather pleasant.


	49. Black and Bronze

**Chapter Forty-Nine- Black and Bronze  
**

Gaia arrives at 5 o'clock with a suitcase straining at the seams.

"Lalaney said you needed some help getting ready tonight." She wheels the case into my room and unzips it. "I didn't know what you were going to wear and Lalaney said you might consider some hair extensions, finally!" She shakes her fist triumphantly and starts unpacking a host of small furry animals. Oh wait, no those are the hair extensions.

"I don't want to look like myself," I tell her, sitting down at the dressing table.

"What are you wearing?"

"Black and bronze."

"Can I see?"

"No. Just black and bronze," I say sharply, remembering Cinna's advice. "There's a big hat that covers my left eye. So I don't know if that helps with anything."

"Ok, shush shush. Let's get to work, we haven't got long."

It takes me back to my Tribute days sitting there still and quiet while Gaia tries to find a look for me. She sweeps something violently blue across my brow and then tuts and wipes it all off again.

"Would you like a tattoo?" She holds up a sheet of what looks like scribbles.

"No, no thank you," I reply. "I would like to come back to being me at the end of the night thanks."

"Don't be silly, they're not permanent!" Gaia chides. "They're stencils, I go over them in whatever colour you want and they wash off later."

"Fine. Do it. Just don't ask me what colour."

She places the paper over the side of my face and tickles my temples with a few flicks of a tiny brush.

"A bit of purple on the lips annnnd…." She paints my mouth with a flourish and turns me around to face the mirror.

I'm deathly white, all over my face and down my neck too. My lips are a dark and brooding purple, painted in a heart shape giving me an effortless pout. There's a brush of shadow in the hollow of my cheeks, making my cheekbones look more prominent. More dark purple dust over my brow making it look thicker set. My face looks a completely different shape.

"I don't think you've ever looked less like yourself, Johanna. You look positively decent now," coos my stylist.

"Thanks Gaia," I say sarcastically.

"Oh you're welcome dear. Now finishing touches." She shoves something down over my head and attacks my scalp with pins. It's an enormous curly black wig, which makes my face look tiny in comparison. Gaia pushes my head to one side and clips in a bronze streak.

"There! You said black and bronze!" She claps her hands together. "I'm going to get Lalaney!" I've never seen her so excited.

Lalaney gasps and claps too when she sees me.

"Oh Johanna you look stunning! And oddly like my roommate from college, Marney…"

"Ooh!" Gaia clicks her fingers as if trying to recall something. "Marney…Marney…Marney Bushell!"

"Umm no…" Lalaney frowns and catches my eye.

I stifle a laugh.

"Look I'll see if I can find one of my old yearbooks and show you her picture, Gaia." Lalaney leads the older woman out so that I can get dressed. It's now quarter to six and I have fifteen minutes to get down to the lobby.

I struggle to get the jacket around my shoulders properly. It catches in my hair and I almost lose my temper and leave it behind. Then I think about Cinna's face when he was gathering together these extravagant shoulder puffs, serious and concentrating. I can't leave it behind.

I use more of Gaia's clips to fasten the bow to my head. I hardly need it to hide my face, it's hardly my face anymore.

At five to six I put the scanner into one of my gloves and hold the ID chip in my hand. I totter to the living room in some ridiculous heels borrowed from Lalaney.

Just before I get to the door, I hear my Escorts voice.

"Where's your handbag?" she hisses.

I shrug.

"You've got to have a handbag, every woman has a handbag! Every female person in the whole Capitol will be wondering what you're up to going out without a handbag! Here!" She flings something black and tiny on a thin string at me. It's barely big enough to put the ID chip in! Really what is the point in having a handbag that's too small to put anything in?

I get in the elevator and undo the clutch on the bag. I'm about to put the chip inside when I see a tiny square of paper. It unfolds to the size of my hand. On it is a hand drawn map, the labels say words like 'Entrance', 'Bureau of Distribution', 'Escort Headquarters', 'Population Division'. It's a map of where I need to go! Lalaney Lilac I could kiss you!

The elevator doors open suddenly and someone else gets on so I shove the map back into the bag.

It's Cashmere, probably on her way to relieve her brother from The Hub. I don't think she recognises me.

"Nice hair," she says snidely.

I play Capitol and beam.

"Thank you dear."

We stand in silence until the elevator bings its bell at the lobby and the doors open.

I turn to her before I leave and deliver my killer line,

"Lovely to meet you Mr Abernathy," and quickly get out of there before a laugh bursts out of me. That will have slayed her! Being mistaken for a man, and a well-known drunk too! I wish I could applaud myself!

I look around the lobby to see if anyone looks like they might be waiting for me. I can't say there's anyone wearing an obvious 'I'm part of the rebellion. Ask me how' sign.

I wobble towards the entrance, waiting for a Peacekeeper to stop me and ask me where I'm going. As Victors we are allowed to leave the Training Center, most of us for 'dates' or to go to events in the city, but we _always _get stopped at the door and quizzed about our intentions. I wouldn't be surprised if someone follows us to make sure.

No one approaches me. It's probably because I look like a regular citizen; they probably think I'm an Escort on my way out for the night. As long as I walk with that busy stride that people seem to use here.

I get out to the street without any fuss and then I run out of ideas. What now? A car was supposed to be here for me at 6. The giant clock above the enormous television screen in the square opposite me reads: 6:06pm. Have I missed my ride?

Uh oh. I'm lingering. An armed Peacekeeper is moving towards me.

"Everything alright Ma'am?" he asks.

"No, no it's not." I try to mimic my old Escort's voice and tone. "I was supposed to be picked up at 6! The car is now six minutes late! Punctuality is something I hold in the highest regard. I have to go back to the Escort Headquarters before I go out tonight, I'm going to be so late!" Hopefully if the Peacekeeper sees fit to follow me, he'll see that I do actually go into the Escort Headquarters building, there's nothing like hiding behind the truth.

"Could I get someone to call you a cab?" he offers.

"Err…" I think about it. If I have missed my ride then a cab would be a good idea. All I'd need to say is 'Escort Headquarters on Diamond Avenue' and it would take me there but I don't have any money with me.

As I ponder my next action an enormous black car with darkened windows pulls up to the sidewalk.

The windows roll down and Cinna's gold-lined eyes look down at me.

"Hello, have you been left behind?" he says cheerfully. "Didn't Effie tell you? The Escort drinks got moved forward an hour."

"Oh…bother!" I fold my arms grumpily.

"Hop in, I'll take you there." He presses a button in the cockpit of the car and the back door nearest me slides open.

"Err I have to go to the Escort Headquarters first." I stare at him and then flick my eyes at the Peacekeeper. "As I was just telling this helpful man. Would that be alright?"

"Sure thing." He tilts his head. "Can you climb up? Or can this helpful man help you up?"

The Peacekeeper almost drops his weapon to put his hands on my ass. He puts it to one side to boost me up into the back of Cinna's monstrous car. He doesn't remove his hands once I'm up there either.

"Thank you, I'm in," I call back to him, trying to resist the Johanna urge to kick him in the face with my sharp heels.

"Shutting the door!" Cinna announces and the door begins to whir closed. The Peacekeeper quickly retracts his arms and stands back, picking up his gun again to resume his watch.

"This car is like a tank!" I exclaim, looking around at the black leather seats that could easily hold at least ten people. "Is that an echo? I'm feeling positively lonely here in the back."

"I could come join you back there if you want Miss Mason?" Cinna says to the rear view mirror.

"That's going to be your second strike if you're not careful," I warn him.

"Yeah, I don't know what that means."

"It's just a game we play in District 7. You get three chances then you're out."

"If you tell me to stop, I'll stop." I see his eyebrow rise in the mirror and I purse my lips.

"I knew it." He smiles. "So why are you heading to Diamond Avenue?"

"You don't know?" I'd already guessed that Cinna knew more than he was letting on but I wasn't sure whether he was officially part of the rebellion or just aware of it like Lalaney.

"No I don't," he says. "They don't like to spread the information around in case someone gets caught, then they can only tell the part of the plan they know."

"You think someone would sell us out like that?" I frown.

"I think the Capitol will make them," he says darkly.

"They won't make me talk," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Yes they will Johanna, everyone will. Just don't get caught."

"Then I won't be telling you what I'm doing. It would be a shame if Katniss didn't have someone to design the dress she wears in her coffin."

Cinna takes a corner perhaps a little too sharply and I slide across the smooth backseat.

"I wouldn't talk about things if you don't know the full story behind them Johanna."

I instantly feel like I've been told off. Whatever the big deal is with this silly girl it seems Cinna's been caught in her orbit as well. He's obviously worried about her, she was still knocked out last time I saw.

We travel in silence for a while, which is a shame because I had enjoyed our flirty banter.

"Thanks for helping me Cinna," I say eventually to break the awkward tension.

"No problem hun. The sooner things change, the better. I can't stand what we've become here in the Capitol."

"Why don't you move to the Districts?" I joke.

"You think they'll have me?"

"I don't know, do you have workers hands?"

"You tell me." He holds out one hand.

I climb into the passenger seat in the front of the car, my wig getting slightly dislodged, and take his hand in my gloved one.

"Too soft." I drop it immediately, a sly smile on my face.

"Too soft? Really?" he exclaims. "I've got the calloused hands of someone who's sewed by hand since the age of six!"

"Talk to me when your hands are blistered and bleeding like my Father's, covered in splinters after a twelve hour shift felling trees _by hand_."

"I'll get on that as soon as I drop you off then." He winks and the car starts to slow down.

"You're not taking me back as well?" I know I sound exactly how I feel: alarmed.

"No sorry, I'd have to pay Snow for that honour."

I hold up three fingers, "Am I going to have to give you that third strike?"

The car gradually stops on the side of the road opposite a gigantic building that seems to shine burnt orange in the setting sun.

"Wow," I breathe.

"I know," Cinna murmurs next to me.

"How am I going to get back?" I turn back to him desperately. "I can't walk in these shoes!"

He chuckles to himself.

"Get a cab, not from right outside. Walk down the street a little and just stick your arm out. A cab'll come along eventually."

"I don't have any money with me."

Still smiling, he digs into his pants pocket and pulls out an iridescent wallet. He hands me some money, which I tuck into my tiny bag.

"I'll pay you back," I promise, squeezing closed the little clutch.

"Don't worry about it. Just out of interest, according to Snow's price list, what would that much get me?" He's got that mischievous glint in his gold-flecked green eyes.

"It gets you a 'thanks for lending me some money' kiss on the cheek," I laugh.

He shrugs and turns his cheek, pointing out an ideal spot for my kiss.

I roll my eyes and lean forward. Before my lips meet with his stubbly cheek he twists his head back and my kiss lands on his warm lips.

Feigning dismay I pull back and gasp dramatically.

"What? I couldn't help it!" He grins cheekily.

"That's your third strike Mr Stylist! You're out!" I pop open my passenger door and he lunges forwards at me.

"Wait, wait, your hair, your lipstick! I couldn't live with myself if you went out looking like that!"

"It's your fault anyway!" I exclaim, slamming the door again and putting my fingertips to my lips to explore the damage his silly kiss had done.

"Then come here and let me fix it!" He opens a little flap in the dashboard in front of me and pulls out a collection of brushes. A few sweeps and I'm guaranteed that my lips are perfect again. A few stabs into my scalp and my hair is good to go.

Before I get out, he grabs my hand and presses it to his lips.

"See you soon…hopefully," he murmurs, his breath warming the glove against my skin.

I have to escape the vehicle before I melt into a black and bronze puddle on the passenger seat. I try to stride confidently towards the domineering building ahead of me. The mirrored walls remind me of hundreds of glaring eyes watching me, knowing that I don't belong there.


	50. Trinity Marther

**Chapter Fifty- Trinity Marther **

I join the small stream of people walking along the sidewalk and feel a little better when I realise that I can't pick myself out of the reflection in the glass.

The surge of people forks at a giant stone entrance way into the building with a hundred eyes.

A line of no more than five people is standing just beyond the entrance and I can see some white Peacekeeper uniforms. As I get closer I can hear the repeated command,

"ID and purpose for visit."

Purpose for visit! I have four more people to think up a purpose for my visit! I'm thinking 'Copying confidential information for rebel use' won't go down too well.

"ID and purpose for visit." Oh crap! That's me. I hand over the chip to be scanned in their little laser gun thing.

"Purpose for visit?" The Peacekeeper prompts me again.

"Err…I'm here for the…"

"Ministry of Transport conference? It's the only thing on tonight…" She looks me up and down. "If you're here for the pitches to the Fashion Department for Prep Teams then you're three hours too late."

"No, no! Here for Transport conference," I do my best Capitol accent again.

"Oh right…well…" She casts a glance at the screen on the laser gun. "It says here you're an Escort-In-Training for District 11, I thought you looked a bit young. If you're hoping to get into the Escort Headquarters you'll need supervision to get in."

"Oh no, one of the speakers tonight is my…relative."

Oh she's going to know I'm talking complete trash!

"Ok, in you go Miss Marther."

Miss Marther? Ok sure.

Before she can change her mind I slip through into the grand lobby. Signs everywhere tell me where to go. I see a big sign pointing towards the restroom so I duck in there to consult my map.

Sitting on the toilet seat I see various areas where Lalaney has labelled 'checkpoints' so I plan a route that avoids as many of these checkpoints as possible. If it's been logged somewhere that 'Miss Marther' has come for the Ministry of Transport conference then Miss Marther must head in that direction.

The map suggests I head up the curved marble staircase to the first floor, walk along to the elevators, get off at the fourth floor, pass through the checkpoint there 'on my way to the Ministry of Transport' then take the stairs to the eighth floor to avoid the checkpoint there.

The Population Division and Escort Headquarters are on the eighth floor, but on the other side of the building from the stairway I've come up. It's almost seven so there aren't many people around on this floor. My heels echo horrifically around the corridor giving anyone else a five-minute heads up that I'm on my way!

Eventually I find the non-descript door with a simple wooden plaque saying 'Population Division'. I put my hand on the door handle and brace myself, excuse ready in case there's someone in there.

My shoulder crashes into the locked door.

"Damn!" I curse.

"Population guys go home at five on the dot, I'm afraid Miss," comes a voice behind me. "They're not exactly ones for working late into the evening." It's a stick thin elderly man staring at me, holding a gold pocket watch in one hand and stroking a long white beard with the other. "Can I help you with something?"

"I need to get in here, I came by earlier to surprise someone and I think I left something. Is there somewhere I can go to get a key?"

"Afraid not Miss. What was it you left? Perhaps I could ask someone to send it to you in the morning."

"It was…"

Inspiration where are you? This is pretending, I'm good at pretending! Come on Johanna, you fooled a whole nation three years ago, this old man should be nothing!

"It was my engagement ring!" We don't have anything to show marriage in District 7, nothing but co-habitation and a name change, but I've seen Lalaney's ring. She told me that here in the Capitol if a man intends to marry a woman then he must get her a 'sparkler' to impress her…or something like that.

The old man looks surprised.

"Why did you have your engagement ring in there?"

"I…err…was showing it to an old school friend who works here. I'm an Escort-In-Training across the way," I blurt, pointing generally down the corridor.

"Are you really? I do the accounts for the Escorts, I've never seen you before." His beard twists further around his finger and I feel like I'm being twisted up with it.

"I'm new!" I say desperately. "Look, please I have to get in here. My husband-to-be will be furious if I've lost it." I lower my voice. "Please sir, I'm talking 'accident on the stairs' furious, it's happened before."

I see a knot of concern grow on his brow and he lets out a long breath.

"Ok, we might have a spare behind the desk. Come with me, we'll check." He leads me further along the corridor to the more fancy foyer to the Escort Headquarters.

"You'll have to put your ID in the scanner dear, just so I don't get into trouble." He points at a black box on the front side of the enormous reception desk. He slips around the back and types in a long number on a keypad.

I drop the ID into a small slot in the box and it flashes up in cold, clinical blue letters,

'Trinity Marther, Escort-In-Training (District 11)' followed by a close-up picture of two eyes. My eyes. Those are definitely my chocolate brown eyes. How have they managed to put _my_ eyes on this ID?

"Here we are, I thought we had a spare. Most of them were collected up decades ago but I think they were worried about fire damage or accident. So, since we're the Population Division's neighbours, one was left here so that someone could rescue documents in the event of a misadventure." The old man holds up a rather old fashioned looking rusty key. "I'll let you in and then you can have a look and I'll just wait for you to lock up again."

"Ok, thank you so much sir, I really appreciate this."

I give him a shining beam as he unlocks the door and opens it a crack to let me in.

"Be quick, I shouldn't be doing this!" he hisses.

This office is nowhere near as big as the foyer for the Escort Headquarters, but then again I guess that's because the Escorts are a very public department.

There are files and boxes all over the place, how am I supposed to find what I need before the old man outside gets antsy?

I flick through some papers on a few desks until I come across the golden shrine, literally.

A big gold cabinet with glass doors. Each of the shelves inside is annotated with a silver label saying 'Capitol', 'District 1', 'District 2', all the way up to 'District 12' and 'District 13'. Jackpot! All I have to do is find the right file from each shelf and—

Wait. 'District 13'? District 13 was bombed to bits seventy-four years ago why do they have their own section here? I pull a file out and skim over it. Approximate Population figures, approximate average age, approximate birth rate. I get out the scanner from my glove and look it over. I don't know if this information is useful but it certainly looks interesting. Perhaps the rebels can use it to avoid the same thing happening to other Districts this time.

I turn the scanner over in my hands trying to work out how to use it. When I press on the curved edge it retracts a little and I see a tiny light inside. I press it to the page I'm looking at and see the light come on again so I sweep it across the whole page, relying on the gadget to remember what it's seen. I turn the page and see a handwritten addition to the notes. I scan this too.

'Rumoured outbreak of disease, possible significant population decrease.' The addition is dated only a few years ago! But District 13 doesn't exist anymore, how can there have been an outbreak of disease recently?

"How's it looking?" The old man's voice calls through the door.

"I'm just looking under the desk," I reply.

I scan the whole of this file and decide to work my way down through the Districts. I record a lot of information, some of it sticks out more than others to me, but then I don't know what it's being used for.

The random file I select from the District 12 shelf gives me a map of the whole District as well as some plans about where most of the inhabitants are.

District 11 has the highest population, with the highest ratio of Peacekeepers to citizens, but the smallest percentage of citizens over the age of 40.

District 8 has the biggest average family size…and the biggest number of potential rebels on record. This fact surprises me until I remember the tenements the people live in.

District 7 has the youngest average workforce.

District 4 has the highest number of students in an academy for Hunger Games Training.

District 2 has the largest populated Victors' Village.

"Miss, I'm going to have to insist that you go home. If you haven't found it yet, then I don't think you will." The old man is opening the door.

I don't know if any of the information will be at all useful but I'll have to give up. I tuck the scanner back into my glove and replace everything I've taken.

The old man escorts me back down to the lobby. Every so often he pats me on the back and tells me everything will be ok. I'm afraid I might have upset him a little with my tragic story. Oh well.

At the door he waves goodbye and returns to the elevator. As soon as I see the doors close I call loudly "Thanks Uncle, you did really well," just in case the Peacekeeper from before is still at the door.

The air outside has never smelt so sweet. I get around the corner from the shining eyes of the building and open my bag. I pull out the ID chip and drop it to the floor, stepping on it soundlessly with my enormous heel. If I get caught I don't want them to know that I had help.


	51. Date Night

**A/N- Sorry I've been on holiday but I'm back now so here's the next chapter!**

**Chapter Fifty-One- Date Night  
**

I take a long walk through the streets of the Capitol. It's a refreshing feeling being able to walk around without anyone staring or calling out to me. It's funny that I have to make myself look like a freak to fit in and be ignored.

How far could I walk? How far would I get before someone started taking notice of me? The only Capitol people I've seen in District 7 are those at the top of our chain of production, like Petruchio Calvus, and those connected to The Hunger Games. Does that mean that Capitol people don't want to come to District 7 or can't? Could I walk to District 1 from here? How big is the Capitol?

With the city's breeze in my wig and no eyes on me for the first time in three years I'm feeling daring. The last of the sun is almost gone behind the sky scraping towers and I duck into a dark alleyway. It leads me to the forecourt of a horseshoe-shaped building. It must be a residential building because I can see fancy curtains in some of the windows and signs of life in the lower floors.

An Avox in a crisp uniform is carrying a dozen suit bags over his shoulder towards one of the doors into the building. I watch a small boy, no more than six-years-old, barrel out of the open door. The Avox dodges neatly out of the way of the running child, casting an exasperated glance at him. He catches the door with his foot and dashes inside.

The little boy flings himself down onto the grass in front of the building, giggling.

He looks completely normal. Ok, he's a little overdressed compared to the young children I'm used to seeing. I've never seen a six-year-old boy in District 7 wear a pocket watch for example.

"Are you alright?" I ask him as he convulses on the floor.

"Yes…" he gasps between hiccups. "I just drawed all over my brother's posters. I gave one of them a mistertache!" He descends into gulping giggles again.

"A moustache? That's funny. I used to paint over pictures of people with mud," I tell him, neglecting to reveal that the 'people' included the old Head Peacekeeper of District 7 and the 'pictures' were 'Wanted' posters. We had a run of illegal poachers selling forest meat at back doors, very shady doings. Our Head Peacekeeper Ostorius slapped pictures of himself pointing out at us all, ordering us to report this black market business.

Of course no one did, we were all happy for the extra meat, and Ostorius retired six months later. He was replaced by a much more lenient successor, Gallus, who so far has seemed happy to overlook such crooked dealings as long as he got a cut.

"Do you wanna know what he said?" the boy whispers behind his hand to me.

"Who? Your brother?"

"Yeah! He said, 'Hey where's my picture of Katniss gone? Who's put up a picture of Brutus instead?!' Isn't that funny!"

I find myself chuckling. "That is pretty funny."

"What's your name?" His eyes full of the tears of laughter glint up at me.

"Trinity, what's yours?"

"Berrick Perrin. Do you live here?"

"No I live…a long way away."

"On 81st Street? That's a long way from here. My grandma lives on 81st Street and we have to take two buses! They're really slow. There should be a train to take us, trains are fast. Did you know that? Did you know that trains are much much faster than buses?" His words are as chaotic as his thoughts, a trait of the young, but it makes me smile.

"I did know that, they are very very fast." I nod.

"Have you been on one?" His eyes shine again with excitement.

"Yes I have."

"Wow! Which District did you go to? They're the only places you can go to on a train. Was it to District 12? That's the furthest you can travel on a train, my Daddy says so. Over one and a half thousand miles he says. He goes to District 6 sometimes because he works with the trains and that's not as far."

"You know a lot about trains Berrick. I went to District 1, do you know how far that is?"

He scrunches his little face up, trying to remember a distant fact.

"Mmm…about two hundred miles?" he asks.

I have no idea but I trust him to have estimated around the right number. Shoot, I won't be able to walk it then. Panem really is way bigger than I first thought.

"That's right," I pretend. "Goodness aren't you clever! I wonder if you could do me one more favour Berrick?"

He beams at me.

"What?"

"Can you give your brother's picture of Katniss giant ears as well?"

He squeals with laughter and claps his hands together happily.

"Sure I can, I'm gonna go do it now!" and limbs flailing he disappears as quickly as he'd appeared.

He was cute, such a shame he was going to grow up to become a body modified, self-obsessed, bloodthirsty Capitol adult.

Then I think about Lalaney, and how much she's helped me, and instantly feel guilty. I guess what kind of adult he might be isn't set in stone.

I find my way back to the main street and decide that it's safe to catch a taxicab. After my chat with little Berrick I don't quite feel as free as I did. Especially now that I know that the closest District is about two hundred miles away.

When the taxi pulls into the crescent-shaped drive of the Training Center, I resist the urge to pull off my now itchy wig. It would be too suspicious if I just appeared having never left.

I step into the foyer and a hand immediately closes around my wrist.

"Trinity Marther?" Finnick addresses me.

"Err…yeah?" I look around, unsure. He definitely means me.

"You're a little late I'm afraid so do you mind if we go down to The Pit for our date?"

"…ok?" Is this part of a plan? Someone's going to have to tell Plutarch that there's a definite downside to all this secrecy, especially when one of the people involved doesn't have a clue what's going on.

I follow him along the familiar route to The Pit, where we sit at a table for two, right at the back.

"What'll you have to drink Miss Marther?" Finnick asks. He's dressed rather formally for The Pit but he did say that I was late so perhaps he'd planned on going somewhere else.

"Just same as always," I say casually, still eyeing up his shirt and jacket.

"Which is?"

Oh yeah, playing along.

"Water, no ice, splash of lemon juice."

The ghost of a smile breezes over Finnick's face.

"What's funny?" He's heard me order that drink plenty of times before.

"Nothing." The smile is gone again. "My friend drinks the same," and he strides to the bar.

Yes, I drink the same… Does he….He doesn't know it's me! My goodness Gaia's done a good job then if one of my closest friends doesn't recognise me.

But then, what am I doing here? Is this a 'date'?! Plutarch must have sent Finnick a red envelope just like me only Finnick must have thought it was from Snow, same as all the others. He thinks he's supposed to be seducing me!

Tonight has the potential to become _really_ awkward…

"Here you go," he says as he puts my water down in front of me. "So…" He takes both my hands across the table. "What do you do Miss Marther? I was surprised that you wanted to meet here at the Training Center, do you work on the Games?"

His thumb is stroking the back of my hand. This is weird. I should stop this.

"Yes I do work on the Games." I stare deep into his eyes. Come on Finnick, you know my eyes, see that it's me.

"So what do you think about this romance between the District 12 Tributes?"

"I think it's bullcrap," and you know that Finnick!

He pauses, thrown by my choice of words.

"Really? I think this place does funny things to people in love…" He brings one of my hands up to his lips. Oh please this is getting embarrassing. It's one thing when we play at this, but this is excruciatingly real.

"Can we go upstairs?" I pull my hand away from his sharply.

He sits back and looks uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry but I'm not supposed to take anyone upstairs. We can go to your place though if you want?"

I narrow my eyes.

"Then lets go upstairs." I grab his chin and direct his eyes to mine.

Something similar to recognition flickers in his eyes but I can tell he doesn't quite believe it so I take his hand.

"After you, Odair."

He downs his drink in one gulp and pulls me to my feet. We half walk, half run to the elevator. As soon as the door closes Finnick pins me to the wall.

"What is going on?" he demands.

"It's me, Johanna!" I exclaim.

"Yes, I know that now! Why are you booking me for a 'date'?! And why do you look like a man pretending to be a woman?"

"I didn't! I've been doing my _thing_! And hey!" I punch his arm with all the strength I can muster. "Did you get a red envelope with Trinity Marther on it?"

He nods.

"Then we had to meet up for a reason. What are you usually used for?" Then I remember the ID chip that I saw in Fulvia's hand. "Wait! You gave…the thing to…whatshername." I try to convey the meaning with my eyes in case there's a bug in the elevator.

"Yeah, I got it from…someone to pass to her."

"And they gave it to me, so maybe mine has to go the other way." I slip the scanner out of my glove and push my body close to his. He presses the side of his nose against mine and breathes,

"On my left."

I open his jacket and tuck the scanner into an inner pocket.

Behind him the elevator doors open at the 4th Floor.

"Do you know how to pass it on?" I whisper.

He nods silently again and backs away, out of the door.

"Hey," I call to him before the elevator can take me away. I tap my nose. "You've got something on your face!"

He has a smudge of my white powder on the side of his nose where our skin has gently touched.

"You've got something all over yours," he replies, finally cracking a genuine smile.

"This date sucked!"

"That's because I don't feel comfortable dating men!"

The door closes before I can come up with another retort.


	52. My Words

**Chapter Fifty-Two- My Words.**

It takes me a good forty minutes to remove all my make-up in the shower when I sneak back into my suite. The water runs ghostly cloudy at first with all the white powder sliding down my face and neck. When it finally runs clear I step out and destroy a towel. I don't remember Gaia putting this much on my face! I get back in the shower with the stained towel and scrub every inch of skin until it tingles.

I sleep terribly. When I do sleep, I dream of people staring at me. In my dream I know that one of them wants to kill me but with all of them staring I can't spot my murderer until they are on me, their knife in my back. I wake every hour to peer around my bedroom for intruders. At around half four I catch sight of my discarded wig on the dressing table and my exhausted eyes see it as a crouched down assassin.

Sunlight begins to drip through the blinds on my window but I don't rise. The daylight burns away the paranoid fantasies and I finally drift into a dreamless rest.

I eventually get up just after midday and decide to call home. It's a weekend so hopefully Joey will be in. I've missed him a couple of times this week because he's been out with some new friends at school. I'm thrilled for him but it makes me feel even lonelier.

Fortunately this time I catch him. He tells me all about his new friends. He took them to the little village of tree houses I made during my first year as a Victor.

"I hope nothing fell on you," I joke, remembering my state of mind when I was making those platforms in the trees.

"No, you made them really well," he reassures me. "Mother came to see them a couple of days ago."

"She did?" Wow, she really is getting better.

"Yeah! She only stayed for like ten minutes but she didn't cry or slink away or anything!"

We chat for around half an hour before Lalaney appears with an apologetic look on her face.

"I think I've got to go Joe," I say to the receiver. "But good work with Mother and be careful around those old trees ok?"

I get my usual rush of loneliness as soon as I hang up so it's really the absolute worst time that Lalaney could ever say the words,

"There's a film crew here, they want to get some sound bites from you and Blight for the Propos."

I turn around and see five people standing awkwardly at the sofas. I release a guttural groan.

"Do I have to?!"

"Shh! Yes! You've managed to worm out of this for a long time. Just smile, look pretty and say what they want you to say," Lalaney hisses, pushing me towards the small group.

"What makes you think I can do any of those?!" I spit back.

"Sit down." She squeezes my shoulder and pushes me down into one of the armchairs. She smiles at the TV crew and adds, "I'll just go and find Blight." She catches my eye and mouths 'Be good'.

The man I decide must be the director tips his cap at me and gestures to a spiky green haired guy next to him.

"This is Curio he's just going to put some powder on your face to make it more 'camera ready' while we set up the equipment."

"Alrighty," I give my feral smile and sit back in the chair, closing my eyes. "Go on then."

I hear some clattering of boxes being dropped and catches opening.

"Couldn't Gaia be doing this?" I ask as the feeling of a wet sponge scrapes across my forehead. "She is my Stylist."

"I'm perfectly qualified," Curio replies curtly.

"I'm sure you are admirably qualified to wipe crap across my face, I'm just saying Gaia's been doing it for three years now. She probably knows my face better than I do."

"We all know your face Johanna."

I hear a shuffling noise that denotes Blight's arrival. Someone tells him to sit down with me and wait for his own make-up to be done.

I jump a little when an unexpected cold brush presses into my eyelid.

"Don't move," Curio instructs.

"Afternoon Blight," I say blindly to the air around me.

"Good afternoon Johanna," his voice comes to my right. "How did we get roped into this then?"

"I don't know about you but I sure tried my hardest last time to make sure I didn't get roped in again."

"Maybe that's why you have been, now I told you to keep still." Curio is already losing his temper with me.

"Oh Curio, if you're getting wound up now then you won't last very long once the cameras are on."

It's true, I really give it my all and Curio steps outside after ten minutes.

"Johanna," the director tries a different tact. "Just read off the paper, please!"

Blight and I are arranged on the sofa together in front of a constructed board showing the Hunger Games logo. They'd tried asking open questions with our scripted answers to be used as prompts but I refused to refer to it.

"Sure thing." I lift the paper up in front of my face. The soundman lowers the microphone in despair and turns hopelessly to the director.

"Put the paper down in your lap Johanna!" The director's tone is oscillating between stern orders and unashamed pleading. I love it. Behind the crew I can see Lalaney sitting at the dining table, shoulders heaving with barely contained laughter.

"I think that the Hunger Games will be won by Merade Proust," I read in my flattest voice before adding, "Who's that?"

"District 5 girl, red hair," Blight tells me. "The one that has set up camp not far from the Careers so she can keep an eye on them."

"What do you think of her Johanna?" The director motions to the cameraman to keep rolling.

I fake a yawn.

"Call me when she cuts off all her hair and then I'll definitely have something to say about my…I mean her strategy."

"Do you think she could win?"

"I won with the same idea, so I don't see why not, mores the pity for her. Are we done?"

"Hold on, where's Curio?" Another member of the crew announces, "Can we get something done about her hair? Just there, it's blocking the side shot."

"Don't. Touch. My. Hair." I snip. I've had this conversation too many times with Gaia and her partner stylists over the years. "I can't stand it. It's the only thing that still only belongs to me. Even my Stylist won't touch it. If I want it short again, I'll have it short but if I want it long, I'll have it long. If I want it tucked behind one ear, or folded into the shape of a damned skyscraper then I'll do it."

There's a muffled squeal from the dining area. Lalaney leaps to her feet clutching her communication gadget.

"Katniss is waking up!"

The director is the first to the television to switch it on.

She's sitting up, looking pretty worse for wear, taking sips from her water bottle.

"She looks awful," one of the crew murmurs.

"She looks awful but better that she's alive looking terrible than looking beautiful dead," I point out.

"She's done well to come out of the Tracker Jacker venom at all, it's nasty stuff." Blight leans forwards in his chair. He's already done his scripted bit about how much he rates her to be this year's winner.

"Luckier than District 4 and 1," I add. "That Katniss Everdeen is a tough cookie."

"Tougher than you?" The director gives me a sly sideways glance.

"Pfft," I snort. "I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

We watch Katniss regain her senses and take in her surroundings. She seems to remember the bow and arrow that she'd clumsily liberated from Glimmer's body and practices firing a few arrows into a nearby tree trunk.

Apart from surviving the venom, acquiring that weapon may very well have been the luckiest thing to happen to her during this game. She looks more than proficient with it. It _must_ have been the skill she demonstrated during her session for the Gamemakers to get her score of 11.

Eventually the TV crew decide they're not getting anymore out of us (me) and pack up their equipment. Blight immediately goes to wash the TV make-up off his face, and sneak a quick drink, leaving me and Lalaney to watch Katniss stumbling around looking for water. Her stings still look brutal.

Her progress is slow so the camera returns to the same footage we've had on for two days, the Career's brand new plan.

It appears the only reason they've kept the boy from District 3 alive is of his usefulness. While the others have been recovering from their Tracker Jacker stings, he's been very handy digging up the mines from around the starting pedestals. As soon as the gong goes at the start of the Game the mines are deactivated so we've all been trying to work out what he's been up to. We can see now from a shot that appears to be over Merade's shoulder that he's fiddling with the mines themselves.

Merade, like me, has been stationed close to the Cornucopia. While the Careers were after Katniss a few days ago she gathered a little food but now she's hungry again. She's watching the District 3 boy like a hawk. Cato is hounding him to work faster. He wants to head out looking for Katniss again because her picture hasn't appeared in the sky so he knows she's still alive.

So, it seems, is her beloved, Peeta. We see a few shots of him, dragging his wounded leg behind him alongside a little stream.

At around five o'clock, we see the first of the Victors' Propos. The screen cuts away from District 1's boy spearing a strange turkey-like bird for the Careers' dinner.

Across the bottom of the screen runs a title,

'Victors' Thoughts' followed by the label, 'District 2'.

Lyme, Brutus, Enobaria and their latest winner, the masculine Greta, have their original Training headshots spread across the screen.

We see them all individually give their opinions on who might win and their thoughts on the Game so far. Occasionally we just hear their voices over clips of the Game that support what they're saying. They are all obviously in favour of Cato and Clove so we see a lot of clips of them.

It's not too bad, but then again it's their own Tributes that they're supporting. I'm really dreading seeing ours, sucking up to other Tributes because ours are dead. Mind you, I'm not sure how much of my 'interview' will be useable, Blight might be speaking solo.

The sun is just starting to weaken in the sky when we see:

'Victors' Thoughts- District 7'.

Lalaney drags Blight out of his room to watch. He has a drink in his hand.

The white title fades away while more writing darkens.

'Who do you predict will win?'

My voice is heard over a clip of Merade running from the Cornucopia.

"Merade Proust, definitely. The Hunger Games will be won by her strategy."

What?! That's not what I said!

"And what do you say to those who think that her strategy is similar to yours?" says a strange voice that definitely doesn't belong to anyone who was in the room this afternoon.

My voice speaks over another clip, "Mores the pity for her when she cuts off all her hair."

Does that even make sense?!

There's a visual clip of me now. I remember it. I was waiting for them to get their lamp sorted and playing with the ends of my hair.

"Might I say your hair is looking lovely," the strange voice compliments me and again my face disappears. It is replaced by a split screen of me with my long hair before my Game and then with my butchered hair from my Victor's Interview.

"I can't stand it. I want it short again but my Stylist won't touch it."

I see why I'm getting a lot of voiceovers. They can't show my face during these bits because my mouth won't match what I'm saying. They've completely manipulated every sentence.

"Now what was your reaction to Katniss waking up?"

"She's done well to come out of the Tracker Jacker venom, its nasty stuff," comes Blight's input from earlier.

"Luckier than Districts 1 and 4." We see me and Blight sat together now. You can tell we're looking at something slightly behind the camera, the TV. "She looks awful but better that she's alive looking terrible than looking beautiful dead."

Next we see Blight's section of the Propo about Katniss.

"This is awful!" I exclaim. "Those are all my words but not in the order I said them!"

"That's the media I'm afraid." Lalaney looks sadly over at me.

"Are you at all surprised?" Blight raises his glass to his lips. "You made it pretty difficult for them but they've owned you anyway Johanna. Just like they always will, they own us all. Even District 2 had to be cut away from, they've been edited too."

The Propo isn't over though. Just before we return to Game coverage, we see my face, again staring behind the camera, as I say,

"That Katniss Everdeen is a tough cookie."

"Tougher than you?"

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

The screen fades to black.

Finally something I actually _did_ say.


	53. Lie To Me

**Chapter Fifty-Three- Lie To Me**

When the screen flickers back to the live footage of the Game, we see Katniss sitting at a dying fire looking at a collection of objects on the floor. There's another smaller figure with her.

"Who is that?" I lean forwards.

"It's Rue!" Lalaney beams. She's still got a soft spot for the tiny Tribute.

"When did they get together?"

"Obviously while we were discussing them," Blight tells me. "But I'm bothered why they decided to cut to us at that moment. This seems like the kind of development they'd want everyone to get excited about."

"Do you think they didn't want us to see something?" I frown.

"Perhaps. Or hear something." It's true, they like to cut away from conversations if they're getting too in depth about life in the Districts.

It simply wouldn't do to hear about how more and more fourteen-year-olds are being persuaded to leave school years early to join the workforce in District 7. Or that the houses are falling down in District 8. The only civilians that know anything about other Districts are us Victors, because we're the only ones that get to interact with each other.

The two girls on the TV screen appear to be going through each other's belongings. They've definitely decided to team up. I bet Haymitch is down in The Hub banging his head against his station. Katniss has just woken up from a two-day venom-induced coma and instantly attached herself to a twelve-year-old girl whose super power is climbing trees. He must think she's suicidal.

Then I remember the Reaping.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!"

Her sister must've been around twelve-years-old. The two little girls have that and that alone in common, and yet something similar has chimed with Katniss.

The two spend the night snuggled together, sharing a sleeping bag, and I think of Little Joey. If Katniss does pull a win, she'll be destined to spend a month or so away from her pretty, blonde sister every year. Let's just hope her parents are stronger than my mother and her sister has some company.

The next day I get a red envelope, a real one, reeking of biologically enhanced roses and everything.

I close the door on the mail carrier and return to Lalaney, who again is hooked to the TV.

"Bartholomew Nelson," I read. "Know him?"

"Nope," Lalaney replies without looking away from the screen. "Katniss has a plan."

"Is it to kill the little girl in her sleep?"

Lalaney wrenches her eyes away from the TV to glare at me.

"It's the kindest thing to do, she's not going to win!" I defend myself.

"That's what you'd do to Joey is it?" She's got me there and I know it so I slouch off to my room to get ready for my lunch date.

Bartholomew Nelson is yet another Gamemaker. It seems my name is being passed around the Control Room like a cold. He tells me that he's only allowed five minutes break every two hours and he's been saving his breaks to have lunch with me.

He's pretty young for a Gamemaker, mid to late twenties I reckon.

We have a dull twenty-minute meal, after which he gives me a clumsy kiss on the mouth.

'Nervous virgin,' I think nastily.

Bartholomew leaves me with a fresh drink and some money for the bill. I sit there running a stirrer around the edge of my glass when the chair opposite me is pulled out again.

"Mind if I sit here?" I don't recognise the voice so I look up. It's Byte from District 3.

"Go ahead," I say. "Just come off shift?"

He nods. The shadows under his eyes tell me that he's been pulling long shifts in The Hub. He has his fingers curled around a steaming mug of something, probably coffee, and he's just staring down at it. There's something too vacant in his face. If Snow has sunk his claws into him, he's clearly not strong enough to deal with it.

He won his Game by default, the last two tributes killed each other and Byte just happened to hold on to life for a little longer than they did. The rest of us, at least the ones I know for sure are being pimped out, have fire in our personalities. Cashmere and I have our fierceness, our war of catty comments, while Finnick plays up to his reputation and incontrovertible sense of humor. What does Byte have? He has no established sense of achievement, he didn't win, he just survived. In any other Game he might have died on day three. He's not strong enough to be a Victor.

"How are you doing Byte?" I take in his sallow complexion and drawn expression.

"Tired." He forces a weak smile.

"I bet you are. Your little one's landed on his feet hasn't he?"

"They're using him. As soon as he's done his job the Career pack will kill him…and there's nothing I can do. There's nothing I can send him that will stop them when the time comes."

I'm still absentmindedly stirring my drink and I can see his eyes following my movements, his fingers copying it on the table surface.

"99% of the Mentor game is uselessness," I say dryly. "That's the first thing they tell you when you graduate from Mentor school."

"How long until I can be like you?" he asks, desperation in his voice.

"What do you mean?" I put my hand over his to stop the circling.

Finally he looks me in the eye and grasps my hand with his own. His fingers are leaving white tracks in my skin.

"How long until I can joke about it? How long until the guilt doesn't crush me like a deadweight on my chest?"

"Never," I tell him softly. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I doubt it, that's why I make jokes, because the truth is too awful."

"Then lie to me." He's encased my hand in both of his now, begging. He looks older than sixteen but his eyes are still young. I can tell they used to shine with questions but now they're dull with answers.

I take a deep breath and brighten my face.

"No worries hun, couple of weeks, you'll be fine. You'll probably never see their families in District 3. The media definitely won't plague you asking why you didn't do something that seems so obvious to them but escaped you in the heat of the moment. This time next year you won't even remember their names."

Byte's sad little smile returns.

"You're such a liar," he says.

"Do you need…a hug or something?"

He vehemently shakes his head.

"No, I'm having…difficulties…being close to people at the moment."

I hold up our hands.

"Is this ok?"

"Yeah, yeah this I can manage."

"Is it because of Sn—"

"Don't," he interrupts. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it. I've had over twenty-four hours of not having to think about it. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about it."

"Ok, ok." I squeeze his hand gently, feeling instantly guilty for bringing it up. This must be only a small percentage of how Finnick feels whenever Annie slips away from him. "Let's talk about something else… What do you think about…" My eyes search the room to find something aside from The Hunger Games to talk about. "Fish! Do you like fish?"

At last I get a stifled chuckle out of him.

"You know, you're not as mean as everyone says you are Johanna."

"I had a good night's sleep," I brush his comment away.

"No, I remember you helping me in front of the cameras at the launch too. Perhaps you're mellowing with age."

"Hush! Age! I'm only three years older than you!" I slap his knuckles and he grins. "Go get some sleep, you look shattered."

"Looking out for me again. See, you are nice."

I grasp his hands again.

"Now I'll walk you to your floor, just to make sure you go and rest, but you tell anyone and I will kill you." I wink and get up.

"Oh do you really want to mess with the District that knows how to reprogram the podium mines?"

"So that's what your guy is doing." I exclaim. "Are they actually armed?"

"Should be, Beetee and I watched what he did, it all makes perfect electronic sense. No clue where he got the idea from though."

He's so much easier to talk to when he's relaxed like this.

When the elevator stops at the 3rd floor I send him on his way. I've put a band-aid on his wounds but the moment he lays down to sleep they'll be opened wide again. He _may_ sleep, but he probably won't.

When I get to my suite Lalaney has not moved.

"Guess who I just spoke to." I flop onto the couch next to her.

"Byte Bilson from District 3?"

I physically deflate.

"How did you know?" I frown.

"It was on the Gossip spot during the ad break. 'Johanna Mason seen holding hands with Byte Bilson'."

"Holy crap news travels fast!" I yelp. "How do they _do_ that?!"

"I don't think you or I want to know," my Escort says with a grimace.

"What's going on here?" I ask.

On the screen Rue is running through the woods at full pelt. There's a billow of smoke coming from the small clump of something behind her.

"Why is she giving away their position?!"

"It's part of Katniss's plan that I tried to tell you about this morning."

Sure enough the camera cuts to the Cornucopia clearing. A nearby camera at the edge of the trees can just about see Katniss, arrows strung up and ready to fly. The Careers are arguing amongst themselves about whether to leave the District 3 boy behind. They are completely oblivious to her presence. Likewise to the presence of the other figure crouched in the foliage.

"Merade." I know it's her without even seeing her telltale red-hair. I know it's her because I know it's exactly where I would be.

"Katniss is going to destroy the food," Lalaney fills me in. "I don't know what the other one is there for."

"She's there to get food. Look at her, she's been camping nearby, she's seen them lay out the mines."

"Do you think he really has managed to rearm them?" Lalaney gapes.

"I have a pretty informed contact who believes they are. Plus would the Careers keep him around if they weren't sure?"

"Good point."

The group come to an eventual consensus and rush straight past the two watching girls in the trees.

Katniss eyes the stack of supplies suspiciously. We know that mines surround it but she doesn't.

Merade does. As soon as the Careers are out of sight, Merade skips into the clearing. She _has _been watching carefully. She performs a beautifully agile dance around the pile avoiding all the spots she _knows_ the mines are in. She leaps over some things and takes gentle steps around others. Once she leaps and doesn't quite land square on her feet so she teeters. There's ultimate fear in her eyes and Lalaney and I hold our breath. Nothing happens.

When she makes it to the bulk of the supplies, she takes a handful from here, a little from that bag, a couple of apples but not enough to be missed. Smart girl. She gets out of the pile the exact same way she got in and then scuttles back into the woods to her nearby camp.

Katniss breathes two words.

"What did she say?" Lalaney turns to me.

"She said 'It's mined', she knows!"

"Just from watching Merade?"

"From putting two and two together."

The clever District 12 girl stands there, assessing the situation. Lalaney said she was planning on destroy the supplies; well surely the mines are the ideal equipment!

"Why doesn't she just throw a rock?" Lalaney suggests.

"Because that might not blow up the supplies. It might just set off one mine and bring the Careers raining down on her. She needs a way to set off more than one mine."

A second billow of smoke goes up and we see a quick flash of Rue moving through the trees once more. The Careers are nearing the sight of the first smoke plume. Katniss doesn't have much longer to make her decision, they'll find out it's a trap as soon as they see the little bonfire.

Suddenly her face lights up. She lines an arrow up with a target in the supplies pile. It hits a burlap sack of apples, tearing a hole in it.

"She's going to spill the apples!" Lalaney claps her hands in excitement.

It takes her two more arrows to set off the biggest explosion I've ever seen in my life. Katniss is blown off her feet and lands right in front of a camera on her back.

"There go the supplies," I say quietly.

"Is she ok? Is she ok?" Lalaney screeches, her hands now clasped tightly together.

"Yeah, her chest is heaving, she's breathing." Then I look a little closer at her chest. "That pin she's wearing…I've seen it before."

"She's been wearing it for the whole Game."

"No, I mean I've seen it before the Game." It's a gold bird-shaped brooch. Where have I seen it before?!

While I'm thinking, Katniss scrabbles to her feet and almost immediately falls down again.

The Careers have heard the explosion and immediately turned tails and are pounding back to the clearing.

"Come on Katniss, on your feet," I hear myself say. Lalaney cocks an eyebrow at me. I raise my eyebrows in reply, even I'm surprised. Why do I care if the Careers find and kill her?

She looks confused but tries to shake herself out of it. She drags herself towards the bushes around the edge of the clearing. A couple more mines go off but she makes it under cover just as the Careers burst into sight.

Cato is furious. He's red in the face and practically foaming at the mouth. He's shouting profanities to the open sky. He barks something to the others.

District 3 tosses some stones around the wreckage.

"Hey I think it's safe. All the mines have detonated," he calls back to them.

What will happen to him now that his usefulness has expired?

The boy from 1 and Clove approach to pick through the debris.

Cato moves a little more like an enraged predator, it's terrifying.

"Why did they all go off?" he bellows at the little boy. "What's the sense in blowing up all of our food?! What kind of idiot does that?! What kind of idiot bites the hand that feeds?!"

The boy from 3 starts to back away, he turns to run but gets caught in a headlock by the older boys muscled arms. There's a quick twist, a dreadful crunch and a sudden fall.

The last Tribute from District 3 falls dead.


	54. Care Package

**Chapter Fifty-Four- Care Package**

Lalaney and I are still reeling from the brutal end of the District 3 boy. My Escort fumbles for the remote control for the TV set and switches it off.

"That was…" I start.

"Evil," Lalaney finishes. "That was evil. That kind of thing can't be blamed on the Capitol. No one forced him to do that to that poor boy. He's unstable."

"Of course he is, did you see that unadulterated rage? I mean I'm an angry person, everyone knows that but…wow."

"Do you think you should go and make sure Byte's ok?" Lalaney asks me.

"He should be resting. I don't want to be the one to break it to him, it should be one of the other Mentors. I'll go see him tomorrow maybe, just to make sure."

And I do.

Katniss beds down in the bushes, either afraid to move or too injured, and there isn't much more action when we get up the nerve to turn the television back on.

So, first thing in the morning, I wolf down some toast then creep out and head down to the 3rd Floor.

It's only after I've knocked on the door that I stop to think to myself: Just what am I going to say?! It's too late to run away now, there's someone shuffling behind the door!

An old bespectacled face appears.

"Johanna? It's so early." His eyes look bloodshot, I'd be worried that I'd woken him if I wasn't utterly convinced that he hadn't slept at all.

"I've come to see Byte," I crane my neck to see inside. I know Beetee said he would owe me but I'm not sure he's comfortable enough with me to let me inside after last time I was here.

"He's sleeping, finally."

"Ok." I shrug my shoulders and turn back to the elevator.

"Would you like some tea?" Beetee's voice calls softly.

"Why not?" I sigh. What _is _wrong with me lately, I _am _being too nice.

The suite hasn't changed at all since I saw it last year. Beetee sits down in the same chair he'd been in when I was last here. There's a fancy tea set on the table.

"Very pretty," I say as he pours some tea into a blue flowery teacup from a matching teapot.

"They were my Mother's," he tells me. "She made me promise on her deathbed not to sell them. They were her absolute pride and joy. I think she'd forgotten that I was twenty years a Victor at that point and didn't need to make money." He smiles sadly. "Why don't you take a look at the bottom of the saucer, she put her name on every item so that if they got stolen she'd sniff out the thief straight away."

Out of politeness I turn over the saucer and gasp. On the bottom, in a petite little scrawl are two all too familiar words.

'Martha Trinity.'

Trinity Marther had been my alias on the Identity chip I'd been given for my secret mission. Sure there was a slight spelling discrepancy but this has to be far more than coincidence.

"That's your mother's name is it?" I catch his eye.

He nods.

"Interesting. Not as interesting as your Tributes handiness with the mines. Did he get his reprogramming skills from you?"

"Not those particular ones but I have dabbled. You'd be surprised what you can do with a few lines of computer code and a publicly released photograph."

So that's how the ID got a copy of my retinal scans. Beetee somehow reprogrammed the chip that Finnick stole from another Escort, and used one of the pictures of me floating around to give it credibility.

"Once, in my youth, I reprogrammed one of the food machines down in The Hub to dump a tablespoon of salt on everything it produced. It was pretty funny."

"I bet it was a riot." I take an ironic sip of tea, feeling myself sliding back down the moral ladder to somewhere closer to my usual station.

"Electronics is my thing Johanna, not people. I'm not supposed to be the emotional crutch of a young boy who thinks people are dying because of him. I shouldn't be having to disturb the first sleep he's had in days to tell him that we've lost the fight once more. He finally got off to sleep again about an hour ago."

"What about Agnes?"

"She's doing her best. She's got her kids at home to worry about."

"Did you want me to speak to him? I don't know if you've seen the Gossip spots but apparently we're having a 'thing'."

"Maybe later if that's alright?" His eyes turn wistfully to thin air. "You know they used to call me Volts at school. I ran a length of wire beneath the floorboards of the classroom and attached it to my teacher's chair. Every so often I'd reach under my chair and give her a little shock, made the whole class roar with laughter. That was before I even thought about being reaped."

I know that Beetee used electricity somehow to win his Game; it seems like a fitting nickname.

I sense it's time to leave Volts alone with his thoughts.

"I'll pop back later to speak to Byte."

"Mmm hmm." He's still lost in his memories.

"Thanks Martha Trinity," I whisper, replacing my teacup into its saucer.

When I get back to my floor there's yet another red envelope waiting for me. It seems that our last engagement was such a success that Seneca Crane has booked me again, for tomorrow.

On the television Katniss is peering blearily out of her bush into the clearing. There's a tinkle of laughter from somewhere nearby. Merade again. She's come back to salvage some of the wreckage. In her right hand is a pot and in her left is a knife blade. From what we've seen so far it might be the first weapon she's managed to acquire. Full on aggression has not been her style.

"Katniss'd be better off taking her out while she's got the chance," I muse, picking through the food left from Lalaney's breakfast on the dining table.

"I think she should get her involved in the alliance. They could be a good little team her, Rue and Merade." Lalaney smiles.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Remember how they keep saying that Merade's strategy is very similar to mine?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if I was her and Katniss asked me to be in an alliance I'd use her as a free ticket into the final few and then use my lovely new knife blade on the two of them."

"Johanna! Stop it, you know I don't like it when you talk like that!"

I bare my teeth at her before burying it in a crusty bread sandwich.

"Haven't you already had breakfast? There were crumbs in the sofa cushions this morning."

"Sorry Mother, what can I say? I grew up in the Districts, I'm always hungry." I savage the sandwich, spraying more crumbs everywhere.

Lalaney rolls her eyes at me just as we hear five rapid knocks on the door.

"Blight?" I ask.

"Haven't seen him since last night," she replies, getting up to answer the door. "And I doubt his knock would be that lively if he's been out since last we saw him."

She peers through a peephole and turns to me as she opens the door.

"Gird your loins."

Finnick bows in the doorway.

"Ladies." He pulls a small posy of flowers out from behind his back and presents them to Lalaney. "Madame Lilac. Ooh sandwiches."

"What did you bring me?" I ask him as he pushes past me to get to the food.

"I'll bring you something another time," he says through a full mouth.

"Urgh," Lalaney throws her hands up in the air. "I'm surrounded by heathens." She goes into her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.

"What's got her goat?" Finnick sprays at me.

"She hates you," I saunter to the sofa, a handful of dried fruit in my palm.

"No she doesn't, no one hates me." He joins me, uncomfortably close. "Fancy coming on an outing?"

"What kind of outing?" I narrow my eyes.

"I'm going to take a care package to Haymitch."

I nearly choke on a piece of dried apricot trying to thwart a laugh.

"Why?!" I cough, eyes streaming.

Finnick gives me a good bang on the back, which doesn't help.

"Come on, he's been down there on his own for over a week now, darting out to get something hot to eat, probably hasn't had a proper wash."

"You're not really selling this idea to me…"

"Johanna have a heart."

"Nothing about that sentence made sense to me." I purse my lips.

"That's not what I've heard." He copies my facial expression and sits back, his arms folded. "The rumour mill is going wild now that you're cheating on me."

"Oh what?"

"Tell me, is he prettier than me?" Finnick looks away and covers his face. "I can't even look at you anymore."

I roll my eyes and drag his arms away from him.

"Stop it! Fine, fine I'll come with you to see Stinky Abernathy!"

The fine actor he is, Finnick manages to turn off his 'jealous depression' as quickly as it had come on and when he removes his hands from his face, he's beaming brightly.

"So what shall we take?" he asks, taking one of my raisins.

"You mean you haven't even constructed this 'care package' yet?"

"Nope."

"Mags is making you do it isn't she?"

"Possibly."

"I'm not doing it _for_ you."

"Of course not."

A few hours later we've turned one of Gaia's gold bags into a mini hamper. It's filled with leftover sandwiches and we've sent Avoxes off to order some casseroles and pies to take down to him. Finnick's torn up some newspapers and turned them into some sort of game. I find some of the make-up wipes that my Stylist uses sometimes and put them in the bag too.

"He can use them to freshen up," I tell Finnick.

Lalaney comes out of her room for a couple of minutes to tell me to put down a vase because we were not allowed to fill it with coffee.

It's quite a pleasant morning and afternoon all in all, laughing and joking around rather than having to be serious or tactical. We have a little lunch ourselves at around two and then Lalaney appears again to make sure we tidy up.

We finally head out to take this 'care package' at around four.

The Hub is considerably quieter than I'm used to it being. There's Haymitch at the District 12 station, Lyme at District 2, auburn-haired Gamma is here to relieve Solange at District 5 and Chaff's slumped over the District 11 monitor concentrating on something. Gloss, Cashmere's brother, is also carefully watching something happening on the District 1 screen.

Finnick and I are making a lot of noise compared to the tense silence down here.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

We both turn around to look at the Big Eye. Katniss is striding through the undergrowth with a little more urgency. I turn to say something to Finnick but find that he's no longer right next to me. He's standing behind Haymitch watching his screen over the older man's shoulder.

"What's happening?" I ask Haymitch, lifting myself up to perch on the top of the station itself.

"Rue didn't light the last fire," Haymitch murmurs. He spins his chair around and raises an eyebrow at Chaff.

Chaff shrugs his shoulders holding his arms out noncommittally.

"I've got some nasty crows circling Thresh," he says gruffly.

We hear a four-note tune reverberating around The Hub.

"What's that?" Finnick looks up.

"Mockingjays," Haymitch replies. "Rue's got them singing a tune to pass on to Katniss so she knows she's ok."

"So she's ok then." I sling the gold bag over into Haymitch's lap. "We brought you some love."

"Sweetheart, that prostitute must be tiny," he eyes the bag.

"Don't make me regret coming down here Abernathy."

"It's some food," Finnick explains, "And—"

"Make-up?" He's opened the bag and is holding up the pack of wipes confused.

"They're to help you freshen up, mop your brow you know." I take one out of the pack and pat down his temple. "See?"

"Smells soapy." He pulls a face.

"You're welcome." I drop the wipe back into the pack and push it back into the bag.

"Hay…" Chaff calls ominously across The Hub.

The Big Eye is still showing Katniss following the sound of the mockingjays when we hear the terrified scream of a young girl. It can only be Rue.

Finnick has swapped stations and now has one hand on Chaff's shoulder.

He catches my eye and flicks his over to the District 1 station. Gloss is smiling. Oh no, what has happened to the poor girl that reminds my Escort of her own daughter.

"Katniss! Katniss!" Rue's voice calls.

Katniss calls back to her and within seconds the Big Eye has switched cameras to show us the view from the District 11 screen. Rue is flat on the floor, on her back, legs and arms entwined in a net that has obviously fallen on her from up in the trees.

We hear Katniss's voice screaming, "Rue! I'm coming!"

She crashes through some bushes and Rue reaches out for her one last time before the District 1 boy's spear buries itself up to the shaft in her tiny delicate stomach.


	55. Everyone Loves An Underdog

**A/N- Back from holiday! I was going to update last night but my laptop seized up so if any of you would like to send me a new laptop that would be super! :P**

**Chapter Fifty-Five- Everyone Loves An Underdog  
**

Before we even have time to blink Katniss has sunk an arrow into the boy's throat. He pulls it out and goes down with a sickening hiss that I suspect might be the air escaping from his fresh hole.

Katniss is screaming at Rue, searching the tree line for others. We know the others aren't nearby and so does Rue but Katniss isn't listening.

Rue rolls onto her side and her body curls around the wound, like a child with a tummy ache. Katniss drops to her knees and severs the net with her knife. She takes a look at Rue's injury and the blush in her cheeks drains. She knows it's fatal. There's nothing she can do.

I look around at Chaff. There's nothing he can do either. He's clasping his stump with the other hand, eyes lowered.

Rue whispers to Katniss but we don't catch it. The sounds of the forest around them become magnified, _they've_ turned up the microphones so we can hear the little girl's final words.

"Every last bit," Katniss answers the unheard question, clutching her hand so tight that we can see white knuckles.

"You have to win," Rue gulps. I notice her abdomen twitching, her tiny body not sure of how to continue functioning around the intruding spear.

"I'm going to," Katniss replies firmly. "Going to for both of us now."

The cannon for the District 1 boy booms through the arena. I hear a muffled sob behind me. Gamma from District 5 is biting her lip, tears shining in her eyes. I take in some of the other Victors' reactions. Haymitch has his head in his hands and Lyme's gaze is glued to the Big Eye. Even Gloss is staring down at the floor, sad about Rue or sad about his Tribute though?

"Don't go." There's a desperate fear in the little girl's voice now and a silvery tear drips between them from Katniss's eyes.

"Course not. Staying right here." She places Rue's head on her lap and softly strokes back her hair comfortingly.

"Sing," Rue croaks.

Katniss falters, swallowing hard. Her voice quivers but she battles the urge to sob and sings a song. I recognise the tune but the words sound different from my memory.

"It's an old lullaby," Haymitch says quietly. "They teach it in school."

Yes, that's where I recognise the tune. It sounds similar to a song Mother used to coo to Little Joey when he was restless. I can't remember much of the words but I seem to remember it being about a vast forest where the going is hard but tomorrow's journey will be through soft grass.

Katniss's version is about a meadow but the message seems the same: Go to sleep and tomorrow will be better.

In the corner of my eye I see Finnick wipe a thumb under both his eyes.

As the song continues, Rue's breathing slows and Katniss's tears really break free, rolling uncontrollably down her cheeks. When the song fades to a finish the mockingjays in the trees above take up the tune.

Rue's cannon breaks the quiet calm. A couple of heads bow in respect in The Hub as Katniss lowers her friend's head to the ground. She scavenges a few things from the District 1 boy's body, as well as commandeering Rue's pack. She lingers, looking down at the girl still partially nestled in the net.

The camera follows Katniss for a few steps into the forest where she happens upon a bed of wild flowers. She stoops and collects a few in her hands.

The Big Eye cuts away to show us Thresh hiking away from circling birds overhead, an enormous backpack over his shoulder. He has a few gashes in his broad shoulders but they don't look too serious.

Beside me Finnick is leaning over Haymitch's shoulder again.

The Hub is still quiet around us so I whisper,

"What'cha looking at?" and follow his gaze.

"Katniss, obviously," Haymitch says, rolling his eyes.

"She's collecting flowers to cover Rue's body," Finnick tells me, a thoughtful finger to his lips.

She is. Rue's fatal wound is completely hidden by white and yellow flowers, while soft pink ones are weaved into her thick hair.

"Why aren't we seeing this on the Big Eye? It's beautiful," I mutter.

"We're not seeing it b_ecause_ it's beautiful," Finnick replies. "It simply wouldn't do for District 11 to see this and feel a kinship with District 12. Divide and conquer remember?"

"We're lucky to be here to see this then," I say.

When Katniss is finished, she stands and presses three fingers to her mouth in a kiss. Then she raises her salute to Rue sadly and slips away.

"What's that?" I ask Haymitch.

"A mark of respect, they won't be liking that upstairs."

Oh yes, now I remember it. The citizens of District 12 performed the same gesture for Katniss when she volunteered to save her sister. Blight told me it was a funeral thing. I'm betting Snow's people are panicking about this little act of compassion being seen.

"What will she do now?" Finnick frowns.

"Wander around until she makes a mistake that ultimately leads to her death?" Haymitch suggests, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "I mean what did she think was going to happen?! Two people can't win! Even if their plan had worked and the Careers faltered at the loss of supplies, what would she have done if it was just the two of them left? Only one can win, I've already tried to talk to Crane about it before the Game started, when we were putting on the united front. What's a better excuse than star-crossed lovers for changing the rules? I don't think he was even listening to me."

Finnick and I share a look. That was pretty bold of Haymitch, to approach the Head Gamemaker and ask for a rule change. I wonder if he's been recruited by Heavensbee yet.

"How's Peeta?" asks Finnick.

"Barely hanging in. He's hurt bad. Can barely move now. Fish are just swimming up to him but he hasn't got the energy to reach out and grab them."

I glance over at Peeta's screen. I can't even see him in it, he must be behind a rock or something. Or at least that's what I think until I see the rock heave and cough. Peeta _is_ the rock. He must have covered himself with mud from the spring he's been following and doused it with a little moss from the rocks around to help him blend in. I see now where he might have got the 8 in his Training Score from.

"She could help him couldn't she?" I say. "Katniss I mean? She looks pretty apt with that bow. I mean if he hadn't betrayed her and joined the Careers…"

"You're being as dense as your District's forests Johanna," Haymitch snaps.

"Sometimes your words hurt Haymitch," I pout.

"He wasn't betraying her, he was saving her, keeping them away from her."

"And now he's going to die for her, good plan." I hop off my perch and stretch my arms. "Can we go now?"

Finnick nods slowly. "Shame two can't win," he adds.

"Especially these two," Haymitch says dejectedly. "Everyone loves an underdog."

On our way out of The Hub Finnick murmurs to me,

"It's a shame we can't help. I think this is the most I've ever seen him care about his Tributes."

"I have a 'date' with Seneca Crane tomorrow," I whisper.

"Could you say something?"

"And have it get to Snow that I'm 'making plans' again? No thank you."

We get into the elevator.

"Come on, you're no rookie Mason," The doors open at the 4th Floor and he winks before disembarking. "I'm pretty sure you can make it seem like his idea."

"When can I make it seem like your idea that I don't like being told what to do!" I call out as the doors close.

For the rest of the day, this pressure plays on my mind. What am I going to do to get Crane to change the rules of a Game that's seventy-four years deep into tradition?

Haymitch was right about Katniss, she does wander around aimlessly. Her bow is loaded but her eyes scan her surroundings unfocussed. Lalaney is heavily affected by Rue's death too. There's a note waiting for me when I return to say she's gone to spend some time with her family and to call if I need her. I won't even if I do.

That night, Cato has another temper tantrum when he sees the District 1 boy's face in the sky during the death count. He buries his sword into the trunk of a tree and stomps off through some bushes screaming profanities about Katniss.

Merade scrambles up a tree to avoid his tirade, which is coming straight towards her. She's far noisier than she usually is. Perhaps she was caught by surprise. Cato doesn't even notice, fool.

Thresh is also distraught at the sight of his District partner's face in the sky. He drops his pack to the ground and sits on it, staring at the ears of wheat around him. He mutters something angrily before sticking his sword into the dirt and starting to make camp.

The next day Gaia drops by with some designs for my Victor's Interview outfit.

"It's getting down to the last few Tributes now. I believe we'll be down to five by the end of today, the District 12 boy doesn't look like he'll last much longer. Here," She passes me a scrapbook.

"What am I looking at?" I say flicking through the colourful pages.

"Fabric samples, colour samples, sketches of different cuts. Cinna and Portia showed us all up at the Tribute Parade and the interviews with Caesar. Everyone at the Fashion Academy has been working since the Game began on finding new things to be one up on everyone else for the Victor's Interview. You should have seen the dress Solomon had ready for Rue. He's going to see if he can work it into something bigger for Seeder now."

I sigh, snapping the book shut.

"You know I don't care." I toss the book into the cushions of one of the armchairs and go to get a handful of dried fruit from the bowl on the coffee table.

Gaia collects the book and opens it again, following me.

"I know you like your black and red motif thing but I was thinking about changing it up a little, especially with your recent foray into Capitol fashion. Here." She taps one of the pages firmly. "They've found a new herby thing in District 10 that makes a new shade of blue and I think it could be ideal for your complexion. I could do a high collared effort with long draping sleeves and train, how does that sound?"

"That sounds like something a crazy old lady with lots of cats would wear."

"Oh Johanna," Gaia tuts and wrinkles up her already wrinkly face. "Pick something for yourself then."

"I want yellow lining," I tell her, thinking of Cinna's design for me. Hidden beauty.

"I really don't think yellow is going to go with this new shade of blue, Sophocles tried it with a red silk and it really didn't work. Truth be told it's a bit of a diva colour."

"Then I don't want it!" I wander around the living area, picking up and repositioning a few magazines.

"I wonder why this colour reminded me of you…" Gaia smirks.

I throw her a withering look.

"I'll just wear something I already have," I tell her.

"That's not happening, everyone else will be in fabulous new clothes. I'm not going to face the other Stylists with you wearing some old scraps. I'll leave the book here, you call me when you've decided what you want."

She swings one of her gold bags over her shoulder and blows a kiss.

"Tell Blight I've got an exciting new shade of blue for his pocket square," she calls back before closing the door behind her.

I'm sure Blight will be thrilled.

Begrudgingly I spend the morning scanning through the pages of the scrapbook looking at shallow portraits and running my fingers over soft, fringed, ruched, mesh and satin materials.

About an hour before my 'date' with Seneca, I make up my face with the usual red paint and comb some black stuff through my eyelashes, poking myself in the eye several times. All the while I'm thinking about how I can 'suggest' a rule change without getting in trouble. Haymitch already said that he tried to ask the Head Gamemaker and didn't get very far. I've had a go at getting information from Seneca, now I'm going to have to plant some.

It's a lunch 'date' at his apartment and like the other Gamemaker 'date' I had it's a flying visit due to the excitement and stresses of the Game in hand.

He's as courteous as before, even pulls out a chair for me at the table and tucks me under it.

"I'm sorry I don't have much time to spare." He pours me a glass of wine from the bucket one of his staff has put alongside the table. He has a few Avoxes milling around taking empty plates and bringing fuller ones.

"That's ok, busy time, I understand" I smile and tuck into the fish pie that's been placed in front of me.

"You have no idea," he grimaces, draining his glass. "There's an awful lot of pressure on the Head Gamemaker, I don't think anyone realises."

"Wanna talk about it?" I ask, trying to sound sympathetic while I refill his glass to the brim.

"Trying to get me drunk in the middle of the day Miss Mason?"

"No!" I reply, a little too quickly but I see a little smile break through on his face. "I'm sorry, I just thought I'd try to take the edge off for you."

"It's fine, thank you but how about we pour some of this back into the bottle?"

"No, no, I got it." I slide his glass across the table towards me and then lean down to slurp the top couple of millimetres out of it.

"How refined." The smile breaks out completely this time and he laughs gently.

"Thanks, now," I hold up the cutlery and say, "which one's the knife and which one's the fork?"

"I think you know which one's the knife Johanna, now drop it." He raises an eyebrow.

Showing off a little, I spin the knife in my fingers and then let it fall to the table with a clatter.

"Spoilsport," I stick my tongue out. "But seriously do you want to talk about your…stuff?"

"No, no, it's alright, nothing to burden you with. Let's just say the death of this little girl has complicated things, and even I have a boss."

Snow.

"And your boss isn't happy that the girl died?" I find it hard to believe that Snow felt sorry for her.

"No, it's not that. I mean she had to die didn't she? She was never going to win, someone that small. She impressed us all in the Training Room with her agility and with that slingshot but…she was never going to win. It's just because that District 12 girl got involved. You know we had Gamemakers in tears yesterday when Katniss was laying…er…when Rue died. I can't imagine what the reaction was like out there." He nods to the window.

Here's my in.

"Everyone loves an underdog," I purse my lips as though I'm making an important point. "People were raring for Rue to survive."

"Hmm," Seneca takes another sip of his wine. "I'm not sure it's Rue they were rooting for."

"Who's the underdog then?" I ask.

"At the moment it's Peeta, the boy from District 12. Doesn't look like he'll see the next couple of days out. But I'm not sure he's the one they're supporting either. Katniss has got them all in a spell, at least that's how it seems upstairs."

"The star-crossed lovers thing maybe?" I suggest. "Especially if Peeta did join the Caree— I mean District 1 and 2 to protect her. Maybe they all want her to find him so she can find out."

"It's the first time we've had Tributes in love. We've had Tributes that have known each other. Do you remember the cousins from District 9 in the 54th?"

"Bit before my time, 61st is the first one I can remember anything from," I tell him.

"Of course, I forgot how…young you are." His smile looks a little sad. "They were cousins but there must have been bad blood between them or something because they both died in the fight at the Cornucopia hacking each other to pieces. It was almost funny."

A tiny amount of bile rises in my throat.

"I'm sure it was." I grit my teeth. "Do you think Katniss will find Peeta?"

"No, he's pretty good at camouflage, she won't find him if she's not looking for him."

I remember the coughing rock and silently agree.

"Imagine the footage you'd get if she did though. Can't you give her a reason to find him?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know…I guess she still thinks he sold her out to the others."

"He did warn her about Cato after the tracker jackers though didn't he?" Seneca is now stroking his jawline thoughtfully. I think we might be getting somewhere.

"So…I guess she kind of owes him now. What would make her start trying to find him?"

"The option of saving his life? We could place down some mutts or something."

"No!" I say firmly. "She's rambling across the arena blind, the mutts would kill him in the state he's in and she wouldn't get there in time…or at all." I hope he doesn't work out how invested I am in this 'idea' of his.

"What's the point?" He sags out of his thinking pose. "Even if she did come to his rescue, they'd just be waiting for someone to kill one of them. Only one can win remember?"

I mirror his posture and arrange a disheartened look on my face.

"Oh yeah. Such a shame. 'Victors In Love', wouldn't that headline have driven everyone crazy if the rule was different?"

"Yeah…it really would. I know you don't think it but people really love you guys, Victors I mean. You're like superheroes to them. Two of them being in love…perhaps even getting married…" He goes back to stroking his jaw and with a tightened stomach I think of Finnick and Annie's private relationship.

"That damn rule. If only there could be some hope for them…" I prod.

His ears almost physically prick up.

"Hope. Yeah…that'd do it wouldn't it? If she had the hope of saving him…yeah." Seneca gets to his feet quickly and drops his napkin onto the table. "I'm so sorry Johanna, I'm going to have to run. Got to get back to work and check in with…my boss about something, I've had an amazing thought."

I've never seen him so twitchy! He's wringing his hands, a big smile on his face. He drops an excited kiss to my cheek and gives instructions to the Avoxes.

"Stay as long as you want Johanna, please finish your meal," he calls to me as he wraps a 'purely for decoration' scarf around his neck and picks up a briefcase.

The door bangs behind him and I push my chair out.

"Excuse me," I wave to an Avox. "I will have more wine and something with chocolate in it please."

I grin, sit back and put my turquoise heels on the table.

Success.


	56. I'm No Mockingjay

**Chapter Fifty-Six- I'm No Mockingjay**

Seneca comes through for me. His 'boss' must have approved his idea because as night falls a chorus of trumpets fill the arena and Claudius Templesmith announces:

"Attention Tributes, attention. The regulations requiring a single Victor have been suspended. From now on two Victors may be crowned if both originate from the same District. This will be the only announcement."

Katniss immediately perks up, thankfully following my prediction, and calls Peeta's name. She'll have a job finding him under all that camouflage for sure.

She does though, the next day and they start their little love-in. I'm not interested by this awfully staged display though so I spend the next couple of days how I usually do: getting in people's way and sleeping with the men that I'm told to.

I get dragged down to The Hub a couple more times by Finnick to take stuff for Haymitch. I've got a feeling that we're taking more to him than snacks and hygiene products but I don't say anything. He and Finnick chat quietly between themselves, occasionally glancing at me while Brutus and I stare daggers at each other.

After one trip down to the basement Finnick and I go to The Pit for a drink.

"Could you make a boat?" he asks me.

"Not right now I'm tired."

He fakes a laugh,

"Aha you're so funny. I mean could _you_ physically make a boat. Would you know how to? Out of trees I mean."

I chase the straw in my drink with my tongue.

"I can't say I've ever had to try. I guess if you gave me some plans and a couple more hands I could have a go…why?"

"Just wondering. Could you make…a wooden duck?"

"Why are you trying to use up all the lumber in District 7 to make giant bath toys?"

He grins.

"Mind if I join you guys?" The third chair at our table is pulled out and Cinna sits himself down in it. He's wearing his usual black clothes with just a smidge of gold eyeliner lightening his look.

"Go ahead. Here, take my place I'm leaving." Finnick drains his drink and gets up.

"You are?" I grab his hand. "Why are you going?" I must admit I'm slightly afraid that Cinna's come to break the news that I have to do something else sneaky and dangerous.

"I have plans," he says, winking at me as he backs away. That's what I was afraid of.

"I didn't interrupt anything did I?" Cinna's eyebrows knit together.

"No, just the usual type of gripping conversation we share. Can I help you with something?"

"Ooh that's cold Johanna, after everything I thought we meant to each other," he grins slyly.

I lean forward on my elbows until I'm inches away from his face.

"I've got a nasty feeling that you're going to ask me to do something."

"I am."

I sigh, sitting back and beckoning with my fingers.

"Go on, hit me with it."

This time he leans forward.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

The wind is knocked out of my ready-made protest and I falter for a moment.

"Are you going to take no for an answer?"

"Nope."

"Then I guess I don't have a choice." I push out my chair to leave. "What time and where?"

"Five? Come up to the 12th Floor, we'll be alone."

"Fine, see you then."

I drop a kiss to his cheek, just so he doesn't take my indifference personally. I take three or four steps away from the table before a thought occurs to me and I totter back.

"Are you going to judge me on what I wear tonight?"

He flashes me that charming, white smile.

"Definitely."

"Aww man!" I stamp my foot, and then fold my arms as I stride away to the rolling sound of his laughter.

I had been kidding (sort of) about him judging my clothes but I go straight to my wardrobe and flick a few of the more dressier outfits out of it onto the bed.

There's a soft tapping on the door while I'm in the middle of destroying Gaia's nicely filed closet.

"What's up Blight?" I call. He's the only person it could be. Lalaney is still with her family and Gaia is too busy trying to make my clothes sparkle or burst into flames or something.

"I just came to see how you are," he croaks. He looks rough and goes to sit on my bed but finds it covered in my selections. "But now I see that you're planning on running away."

"Ha! I wish. I'm meeting up with someone who has a very discerning fashion sense."

"Cinna by any chance?"

"How does news travel so fast?!" I gape at him.

He smiles and pushes some of the dresses onto the floor to make room for him to sit.

"Don't worry, I didn't hear about from the TV. Chaff told me."

"Chaff?! How does he know?!"

"Haymitch knew, I don't know how he knew."

My eyes narrow.

"Finnick! He and Haymitch have been pretty friendly lately, it wouldn't surprise me if he ran straight down to spread the gossip to his new bestie." I hold up a shiny silver dress, it almost reflects Blight's image perfectly. "How's this?"

"Fine," he says but I ignore him and throw it back into the wardrobe. "I wouldn't be too jealous of Finnick's new friend if I were you. That fellow Bumblebee is up to something."

"Heavensbee," I correct him.

"Whatever his name is, he's got his little drones running around doing his work. I bet you anything you like when this all comes to a head, he'll come out clean, smelling of roses."

"Roses don't smell clean," I mutter, thinking of Snow and shuddering. "This one?" A green velvet short number.

"Fine." I ignore him again.

"What do you know about 'his work' then?" I ask, throwing a pair of pants and two shirts over my shoulder.

"More than you need to know. I've got a pretty good idea what you're going to talk to Cinna about too."

I go into my en-suite to get changed, and also to hide the confusion on my face. What does Blight know? How does Blight know so much and I don't?! I've been doing secret missions for crying out loud I should know what's going on!

"Is that so?" I call through the door, jaw clenched.

"They need someone to be the face of the rebellion when they go public," his muffled voice replies.

"And you think I'm in the running?"

"I'd say your attitude makes you the perfect candidate for leading a rebellion. Everyone out there loved how you tricked us all into thinking you were innocent and pathetic, I imagine they'd go wild if it turned out you were also planning the downfall of the government too."

I wish he'd stop talking. I don't want to be the rebel leader. I don't want my family to be in danger because people think this was all my idea! Sure I want a better Panem with no District boundaries and shared wealth etc but I don't want to be the face of it all!

"Where have you been?" I try changing the subject.

"Oh you know, out and about. What have you been up to?"

Damn, I didn't think he'd throw the question back at me. Rather than answer, I open the door.

"This?"

"Fine."

"Blight!" I stamp my foot for the second time today and slam the bathroom door behind me. It's like he's never talked a teenage girl through clothing options before.

By five o'clock I've picked a dark red floaty dress with a purple belt around my waist. I approach the door to the suite on the 12th Floor feeling like this is one of Snow's 'dates'. Why can't I go to dinner with a nice man who doesn't want something from me?

Cinna opens the door before I even get chance to knock.

"Maroon and chiffon, very on-trend, I'm impressed," Cinna says with a smile, standing back to let me in.

I eye up his usual black shirt and vest.

"Tell me, is there a difference between your day clothes and your date clothes?"

"Ooh ouch! She comes in fighting, I like it." He gestured towards a perfectly made up table. "Please take a seat. I didn't know what you liked so I got a little bit of everything."

"Oh good, I like a little bit of everything." I'm not quite sure what else to say. I'm just waiting for him to bring up whatever it is that Plutarch has asked him to talk to me about so the first few minutes of our meal are a little awkward.

"How…have you been? Katniss woke up since I last spoke to you," I say, picking apart a soft, particularly flaky biscuit.

"Yeah good. Busy, had to use my lunch break to invite you up here. Since the rule change I've had to start planning two Victors outfits."

"Woe is you." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I know. Seems pretty weird that they'd make the rule change saying that two Tributes can win if they're from the same District when the only District pairs left are 12 and 2. Almost seems like the Gamemakers are on their side." Cinna raises an eyebrow.

"Mmm." I shrug my shoulders in a non-committal way.

His hand finds mine across the table.

"Thank you, you don't know what you've done."

My eyes flick around the room. Where are the bugs? Should he be saying this out here?

"I did nothing, really."

"No," he squeezes my hand. "You think you're just helping me and Haymitch but you're not. You're helping more people than you know."

Another reference to things being 'more than I know'! I slam my biscuit to the table and it shatters into crumbs all over my plate.

"Is there somewhere more _private_ we can go?" I growl.

"Are you ok Johanna? We can talk here it's safe."

"Are you sure? There's…" I mouth the word 'bugs' "…everywhere."

"Not here. Beetee's found a pulse wavelength that disables them for an hour or so. It's the same sort of pulse that some appliances give out. There'll be an engineer over here tonight or tomorrow morning to do 'safety checks' and then we'll move our meeting place again. Don't worry, we're safe."

"Are you sure?" I repeat.

"Tried and tested a dozen times, I promise." He strokes my hand again. "What's up?"

"I'm sick of things being 'more than I know'! I don't know anything that goes on! I know you said that _they_ like to spread information out in case someone gets caught but I feel like _everyone_ else knows everything and I don't!" I gasp for breath, pretty sure I'm red in the face now and my hair's been raked forwards by my wringing hands.

"I'm sorry but I was under the impression that you didn't want to be too involved, to protect your family," Cinna says softly.

"Well…" He's got me there. I did say that…to someone…I didn't think it was him though. "I'm just getting tired of people saying things to me that I don't understand. I don't know who I'm talking to anymore. I'm talking to Finnick and then Haymitch replies, but it's all Plutarch's words isn't it really?"

Cinna takes a breath to speak but then decides against it, drops his napkin to the table and moves into the chair next to me. He holds my hand between us.

"Have you seen Katniss's token from her District?"

I shake my head at first, then remember,

"Yes. The Mockingjay pin?"

"Yeah, she said her friend gave it to her to give her luck. Haymitch has told me that it's been in the Games before. You know Haymitch was in the last Quarter Quell when twice the amount of Tributes were reaped? Well one of the other Tributes from his Game wore it. You know the story of the Mockingjays?"

I nod softly, Uncle Fern told me.

"The Jabberjays were mutts used to carry rebel secrets back to the Capitol but they mated with Mockingbirds and made a crossbreed that thrived despite the Capitol trying to destroy them."

"Exactly!" My hand is now encased by both of Cinna's. "They're a symbol of rebellion, of hope. Not that Katniss knows that yet, she will soon enough if she gets out. That's what we need now, we need our own Mockingjay, our own symbol of rebellion that the people all the way out in the sticks of District 12 in the east, or District 7 in the west can relate to and get behind."

I close my eyes, this is what Blight was talking about.

"I'm no Mockingjay," I sigh and pull my hand away from Cinna.

To my shock and surprise he replies with,

"I know."

What?!

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong Johanna, you'd make a spectacular war hero. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of you and your axe but we're not sure people would support you."

I don't know whether to feel relieved or insulted.

"What do you mean people wouldn't support me?!" I think I'm insulted.

"You know, you've got that duplicitous nature. You tricked everyone before, you've been…excuse my language…a complete bitch since you've been out, which is great for TV but not so much for inspiring a sense of camaraderie. You can't be our Mockingjay, I'm afraid."

"People don't like me, that's what you're saying."

"Essentially."

There's a tense silence while I weigh up my feelings about this barrage of information.

Cinna kindly leaves me to my thoughts and pours some tea from a teapot. It reminds me of Beetee's mother's pot, Martha's teapot. If Beetee gets caught, he's going to be in a lot of trouble, he seems to be knee-deep in most things these days. He's not afraid. Cinna's not afraid.

Finnick's not afraid. He could be the Mockingjay, people love him, especially if he plays the 'lover back home' card. I guess I could get behind Finnick being the face of the rebellion.

"Who are you thinking about for the job?" I ask Cinna.

"For the Mockingjay job…well…I'm not sure I should say anything."

"Come on, I can take it, I should know who our leader's going to be." I poke him.

"_They're _thinking…if it works out….Katniss Everdeen."

"Aww man!" I moan.


	57. Lucky

**Chapter Fifty-Seven- Lucky**

Cinna chuckles at my little strop and chucks my chin.

"You'll see it soon enough, like I did," he tells me, filling my wine glass.

"I've seen enough," I say. I think about her and Peeta up on the rooftop, the night after the Tribute Parade. How Peeta had given her his jacket but Katniss's body language still demonstrated an unsure defensiveness. "Besides, you can't talk, you two've had all that bonding time. I do not intend on having any bonding time with her, if she makes it out alive that is."

"If it was allowed, I'd have a lot of money bet on her." He smiles to himself as though he's reminded himself of a private joke.

"You have to say that, you're her Stylist," I point out.

He raises a dark eyebrow, "Do you think Gaia would have bet on you?"

"No," I admit. "But that was because I didn't want her to anyway. I didn't want anyone to."

"Do you think she'd bet on you if you went in again?"

"Not you too! Why does everyone keep asking me what would happen if I went in again?! I'm not going in again! No, Gaia again wouldn't bet on me because they would be dragging my cold, dead corpse back into that arena and no one likes to bet on a corpse."

"Ok, ok!" Cinna holds up his hands defensively, laughing. "It was just a question. I'm just saying, wait until you talk to Katniss yourself before you decide whether you like her or not. I think you could really be good friends." He takes a sip of his drink. "Or worst enemies…I've got a feeling it could go either way with you two, you're pretty similar."

"She should be careful then if she does make it out. I hope she doesn't have any friends or family back in District 12 that can have tragic 'accidents'." I avoid his probing eyes but think about the small blonde girl that Katniss sacrificed herself for.

"She doesn't like to talk about it, I think it hurts her too much. She told me about the friend who gave her the mockingjay pin, like I mentioned. Madge I think she said her name was."

Madge…a vague thread of recollection, the same feeling I had when I saw Katniss wearing the pin…I can't have known Madge or the pin before, it's a token from her District. When have I ever been to Distr—The Victory Tour! The bald Mayor and his sad wife, their quiet daughter in that cotton dress, faded and dowdy compared to the glistening gold brooch on her collarbone.

"One of the Tributes in the Quarter Quell wore it? That's what you said…" I mutter, still captured by my memory.

"Yeah, someone Haymitch won't talk about."

"It's a family heirloom," The Mayor explains. "From my wife's side of the family." He puts his hand on his wife's shoulder and she nods tightly.

"Madge gave it to Katniss because someone else in her family wore it to the 50th Annual Hunger Games," I say sadly. "Poor Madge, I liked her. I can't imagine her mother was too thrilled about seeing it on TV again."

"Katniss says she suffers from migraines a lot so Madge spends a lot of her time alone."

I think of the way her giggle sounded so foreign in that dark, unhappy house. There are hundreds of those houses in Panem, reeling from the effects of the past 74 years. They do need someone to lead them out of the darkness, a beacon of hope.

"I can't eat anymore." I push away my plate and cradle the wine glass in both my hands.

"Do you want to sit on the sofa instead?" Cinna asks kindly.

I nod.

A clock somewhere chimes half five, it's still light outside but it feels later.

Cinna picks up a TV remote.

"Do you mind if we put the Game on? I like to keep an eye on things, especially with Peeta looking as bad as he does."

"Sure," I shrug. It's been on most of the time on the 7th Floor, it's starting to wash over me anyway and the wine is starting to make my head fuzzy.

Immediately Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the room.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your District number, at the Cornucopia at dawn."

We see Merade, panting after some form of exercise. She looks hungry, perhaps she was chasing some dinner. Her lips are cracked and her skin looks pale and dry. She winces and holds her shoulder as she folds down to sit on a tree stump.

"Think hard about refusing to show up," Claudius continues.

Clove and Cato look to each other. Clove has hope in her face and Cato, pure excitement. They share a smile. They know that the other Tributes will be right in the palm of their hands.

"For some of you, this will be your last chance."

Finally we see Katniss and a sorry looking Peeta staring up at the roof of their cave hideout. Peeta grips Katniss's shoulder.

"No," he croaks. "You're not risking your life for me."

"What's going on?" Cinna whispers to me.

"I don't know, it sounds like a feast," I reply. "They're not always food. Mine was water." I still remember the sun glinting off the ice sculptures and champagne flutes when the table rose from the ground. Water has never tasted as sweet as the stuff on that table. I'd been hiding behind the Cornucopia when it came up; I wonder whether anybody will do the same.

"It must be medicine for Peeta," Cinna guesses. "They don't need food, Katniss has seen to that."

"Unlike Merade," I add, her hollow eye sockets haunting me.

Cinna frowns, "Merade…?"

"District 5!"

"Oh yes of course, I'd forgotten about her already!" he exclaims. "But I guess that's her plan all along isn't it?"

"She's a smart cookie for sure."

"You'd like her to win wouldn't you?"

"I think she's played extremely well and deserves to be rewarded for it. She's getting weak though, I'd hate for her just to give up."

We've talked over an argument between Katniss and Peeta, he seems to have argued her down and she's agreed not to go to the feast. We know she will though, it's in her eyes.

As they eat their broth, the camera cuts to Cato and Clove who are perfecting their plan. Since their supplies were blown up they've had to forage deeper in the forest for food sources. While the sunlight is still good they've started making their way back to the Cornucopia.

"One of us should stand guard while the other gets the backpack," Clove suggests offering him her hand as they climb over a fallen tree.

"I agree." He gives her the spear he's picked up and side vaults the log. "I've got a farther range with this," he takes it back from her. "If you feel alright being the one to grab the backpacks?"

"Faster than you anyway buddy," she grins and nudges him with her shoulder. He retaliates the same but she dodges it smoothly. "And more agile!" She sticks her tongue out. "Wait…did you say backpack_s_?"

"Sure did. Don't worry, you be fast and I'll be the brains." He taps the side of his head with the handle of the spear. "That way we'll have the ammo, the food, or whatever the others need so desperately and they will have nothing. They die off one by one, we win, the first double Victors from District 2. Applause, adoration, riches etc."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned."

"Sure do," Cato smirks. He catches Clove by the wrist and turns her around to face him. He takes her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts it towards him. "We're gonna make history. They're on our side," he pokes the spear upwards. "They wouldn't have made the rule change if they weren't."

"What about the other pair?" Clove says quietly. "District 12."

"I know where I cut Lover Boy ok? He's not coming back. I doubt he's even coming to the feast. _She_ might, if she's not already weeping over his infected dying body. That's why _I'm_ going to be covering you. She's taken Glimmer's bow and arrows, I've got a similar range with the spear. If she takes a shot at you, she'll give away her position and I'll be on her. If she doesn't then we wait until she shows her face so don't take the 12 bag if its still there."

"What about the District 11 boy?"

"Same plan, though we don't know what weapons he has. That's why we need the armour in our backpack. That's what it must be, it's the only thing we need desperately to win."

Cato's eyes are shining, he must be able to feel victory. They are the only healthy pair left after all. They wouldn't be so cocky if they'd seen just how good Katniss was with her bow, or how big Thresh has gotten during his time in the wheat field.

The two stare deeply into each other's eyes, a palpable tension between them.

Clove rocks up on her tiptoes, eyes closed as if she's about to kiss him but he doesn't realise and lets go of her chin.

"We're going to win, we're going to win," he chants, continuing through the trees and pounding his palm into the spear's shaft.

Clove lets out a held breath and opens her eyes. She sighs quietly and follows behind him.

"Cato, wait up!"

"Poor thing," Cinna says. "You can tell there's chemistry between them but he's missing his chance because he's so hell-bent on winning, it's all he thinks about."

"Maybe it's all he has to think about. If they win, they can do whatever they want. Romance can wait," I retort. "They _are_ kind of in a battle to the death at the moment."

"But what happens if Thresh or…Merade find them in the night and kill them in their sleep? They've missed out on something that could have made their last days beautiful. They should treat every day like it might be their last together."

I frown.

"But why do that? Why not spend your time making sure that it definitely isn't? That's what I'd do."

"You're never wrong are you Johanna?"

All of a sudden I'm aware that Cinna's sat very close to me. I can smell his aftershave, or cologne or whatever it is men use make them smell all musky. He pinches a small strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear.

I flinch.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't like people touching my hair," I murmur.

"Why?"

"Because it's mine and no one elses, no one else can manipulate it and…" I close my eyes, seeing Kernel's blood dripping down my shoulders. "It's dirty, so you shouldn't touch it."

"It doesn't look dirty to me." He takes another strand and combs his fingers through it. "Open your eyes and look at it, its long enough now."

My heart is pounding in my chest as I open my eyes. I can see my hair in Cinna's soft hands and swallow down a lump in my throat.

"It's clean, it's beautiful and I'm not manipulating anything," he tells me gently. "Do you trust me not to do anything to it?"

I bite my lip and nod.

He pulls me into his arms and I rest my head on his chest. A position I've been in plenty of times with Finnick, except I've never let Finnick run his fingers through my hair like this. Once the adrenaline rush and the voice in my head saying '_I don't like this, I don't like this'_ disappears, I even find it relaxing.

We sit in silence like that.

We see Thresh creeping through the dark, eerie wheat field.

We see Merade make it to the Cornucopia just after nightfall and huddle, shivering but silent, inside it. Good girl.

We see Cato and Clove bed down over a quarter of a mile away. I think they misjudged just how far out they were.

We see Katniss receive a silver parachute containing a small vial. The contents are poured into a concoction of berries and mint leaves and given to Peeta. He realises what the secret ingredient is on the last mouthful and tries to spit it out. Katniss clamps a hand over his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow it.

"What a way to treat your beloved," I tell Cinna and he shushes me good-humouredly.

The vial, it turns out, is a sleeping syrup and he tumbles out of consciousness while trying to make himself sick.

Katniss blocks up the mouth of the cave behind her and begins her own pilgrimage to the Cornucopia. She'll be lucky if she doesn't stumble across one of the other camps around the perimeter of the clearing.

I tell Cinna this and he simply replies,

"She is lucky."

Cinna keeps combing my hair and I drift off to sleep lying against his warm chest.

The thought crosses my mind that perhaps for the first time in three years, I might be lucky too.


	58. Cato And Clove

**Chapter Fifty-Eight- Cato And Clove  
**

After a couple of hours I wake from a dream about Gaia emerging from the golden Cornucopia with an enormous silver parachute attached to her back. My first thought is that I should tell her about it and maybe she can run with that for her grand Victor's Interview design. My second thought is that Finnick smells funny and in the soft glow of the television screen the furniture looks weird. Do the walls usually look this light even in the dark?

Finnick murmurs something in his sleep and I immediately scramble to my feet. It's not Finnick.

Where am I? I know sometimes I wake up in strange places, but they don't usually look so similar to my own suite.

"What's up? What's the matter?" a sleepy voice says.

Ahh yes. Cinna, I remember.

"Are you ok?" he asks, rubbing his eyes and trying to force them to focus in the low light.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply quietly. "Just…umm Victor stuff, you know." I wait for my heart to stop pounding.

"What kind of stuff?"

Oh crap, yeah he doesn't know. I've spent so long around other Victors that I forget that there are other people who don't sleep lightly in case of attack, who don't leap out of unconsciousness at the slightest sound.

"It doesn't matter. I think I should go back to my bed." My neck aches from sleeping on a slope against his body. It's craving the man-eating bed and it's soft pillows.

"Don't be silly, you don't have to go." Cinna holds out his hands and I take them gingerly. "Do you want to go?"

I shrug and it twinges my unhappy neck muscles.

"Stay a little longer," he says softly, getting up but still holding onto my hands.

"It's late, I should go," I try again.

"No, please stay."

"Why?" I frown.

"Because…honestly, I was going to make a move but I fell asleep."

"Oh…" I start to reply but a little giggle escapes from my lips. Once that one is out, a cascade of them come tumbling out. Wow, I've never been a giggler before!

Unfortunately Cinna joins in, which ruins my attempt to compose myself.

"It worked a lot smoother in my head," Cinna chuckles.

"I bet," I agree.

"So…"

I roll my eyes and pull his hands towards me. He rocks forwards on his toes at the tug and I plant a kiss on his lips.

"That's not fair!" he exclaims. "I was going to make the move!"

"You already did, in the car remember?" I point out. "When I was all Capitol-ized. It was my turn. You can absolutely make the next move," I promise him, drawing a cross on my chest.

"Thanks," and he swoops in, cupping my face with his big, soft hand as he crushes our lips together again. It's nice. It's very nice until my brain wakes up from the initial anaesthetic his kiss has put me under.

What if he is trying to use you Johanna? What if, just like every man in the Capitol, he's just trying to cop a feel of your manmade chest because he's been taken in by your hand-sculpted face and the danger of being with a killer? Sure he could pay for it but, to add to the thrill of it all, he's trying to get it for free.

Stupid brain! Why are you being like this?! Now I have to break off the kiss and push him away!

He looks confused.

"What's the matter? Are you ok?"

I don't really have an answer for him. What's the matter with me? Well 3 years ago I was taken from my home and told to survive. So I did what I could and watched someone that I cared about die, did some killing myself, survived, and then got punished for it. Now I'm passed around the highest bidders while my family live under threat. Am I ok?

"I have no idea," I say out loud. "Probably not."

"Do you...I mean did I..."

I feel bad for him now. Damn these guilt trips! He's just a guy trying to help rebels from a bunch of places he's never even been to. He's probably not just trying to score. As handsome and charming as he is though, I can't go further.

"I'm really sorry. I have a whole mess of problems Cinna. Really deep stuff that's not going to go away with some combing of the hair. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. You're great but I'm not romantic interest material."

"Who says you're not?" He cups my face again.

"I do," I tell him firmly.

"Then give me the chance to tell you what I think you are. I think you're scared of being close to people in case they hurt you or go away. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But you might go away?"

"We live in dangerous times, I can't promise that something won't happen but, like I said last night, sometimes you just have to live for now rather than missing it to plan for the future. Seize the day. I don't mind being patient Johanna, just as long as you know that I…we might not be around forever."

I think about those last few moments with Red. Circumstances were different then and I was trying to keep both of us alive. There was none of this 'two may win' crap then. I missed out on something there, big time.

"Cinna..." I say quietly.

"Mmm?"

"Will you comb my hair again?" and he does. We lay on the sofa this time to avoid achy muscles. There are a few more kisses but not nearly enough. We are interrupted by the television volume rising.

"Did you do that?" I ask Cinna after checking that I've not been laying on a remote control.

"No, it's the feast. The Gamemakers want everyone watching. All the TVs in the nation just automatically turned on. They do that whenever something important is happening," he explains.

How have I missed that? At home I managed to avoid a lot of the Game coverage by being out of the house, and I guess Lalaney has it on most of the time here anyway.

Katniss is fidgeting in her spot, trying to keep herself warm. It looks like a pretty cold night, puffs of breath are spouting from the Tributes' noses as they all lay in wait for the right moment.

Cato is sitting watch while Clove snoozes against a tree trunk. Occasionally he casts a furtive glance at her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes are flicking around almost manically. Has he realised yet how far they are from the Cornucopia?

Thresh too, it seems, is a little disorientated in the dark and is crouched down in an area behind the Cornucopia. He won't be able to see the feast table from there unless it comes up somewhere unexpected.

Merade is still huddled inside the Cornucopia. Her lips are purple and cracked but she stays silent. I know from personal experience that inside the Cornucopia every breath is echoed to a boom.

The sun is starting to peek through the trees on one side of the clearing. Looks like Katniss will see it first. She's taken off her night-sight glasses and is leaning up as high as she dares to see if the feast has arrived yet. It hasn't.

From the camera inside the Cornucopia we can easily see her, therefore so can Merade. She can also see the bow and quiver of arrows at her side. She now knows that she needs to grab her bag and run for her life the moment her backpack arrives.

"She's in prime place to grab all of the backpacks," Cinna whispers in my ear.

"She won't though," I reply. "She knows Katniss is right there. She knows a rain of arrows will fall on her if she tries that. She suspects that the others are out there too, why would she spend the last two weeks hiding only to bring them all down on her now?"

"Good point."

Cato is waking Clove. He's realised that their co-ordinates are out.

"Wake up, we're not close enough!" There's urgency in his voice but he isn't shaking her hard. "Clove, I need you to get up now."

Her eyes spring open quickly, the same as mine do whenever I sense something wrong around me. The same as I know Finnick's do when he realises there's someone else with him.

"What is it? What is it?" She clambers to her feet, a hand on the collection of knives inside her jacket.

"We need to move." Cato picks up her bag and starts striding towards the Cornucopia clearing. "We're off by about a quarter mile. You awake now?"

"Yeah, yeah." She stretches her hands up in the air and cracks her neck to one side.

"Then run."

They pick up the pace and run through the trees.

To the left flank of the golden horn, Cato drops Clove's bag on the floor.

"Ready?" he says.

She nods.

"Cover me?"

"Of course." He brandishes his spear. "We've got the red-head, the girl on fire and District 11 still out there. As soon as they show their faces, they're dead."

Cloves eyes shine with excitement. "We could win this today."

"I know, I know." They embrace hard and Cato even kisses the top of her head.

Clove pulls away and looks at him questioningly.

"What was that for?"

He shrugs.

"Just happy, I guess. Let's just finish this and talk about it later."

"Ok." Clove grins, a tinge of blush in her cheeks. "Cato?"

"Mmm?" He starts practicing his throw.

"If I engage _her_, you could hunt out the District 11 boy."

Cato frowns.

"Are you sure? What if she has Glimmer's bow?"

"I've got a pretty good range with these." She opens her jacket, flashing her knives again. "I promise, I'll make it a good show. I'll keep her busy, you get District 11 and Lover Boy if he's out there."

"He won't be out there, I told you I near severed his leg," Cato spits.

"Whatever," she waves away his words. "We hunt down the red-head, Lover Boy dies eventually and it's just us. Let me do it Cato, I can do it."

"Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on you."

Back at the Cornucopia, the feast table is rising and clicking into place.

Merade is up and out of her hiding place before Katniss has even moved. She's quite clearly starving but she moves so nimbly, grabbing her green District 5 bag and darting back into the trees.

Katniss blinks, stunned.

Cinna sits up behind me, "She has to go now," he murmurs. "If she doesn't, someone else will grab her bag."

Katniss seems to realise this too because she's on her feet.

So is Clove.

Katniss dashes out of the bushes. Clove sees her. A knife is flung towards her head. Katniss hears it at the final second and bats it away with her bow. She fires an arrow at Clove's middle but the smaller girl pirouettes out of the way. It strikes her left arm instead.

"Come on Katniss, just grab the bag and run!" Cinna is leaning forwards now.

She does as she's told and loops her arm around the little orange bag with a number 12 on it.

Meanwhile Cato is stalking through the trees behind the Cornucopia.

Thresh can hear the scuffling sounds of the girls' altercation and is picking up his sword, in two minds about whether to enter the fray.

Cato lunges at him, throwing his spear. Thresh dives out of the way, stumbling on a tree stump and dropping his curved sword.

Clove has pulled the arrow out of her arm and sends another knife at Katniss. It grazes her forehead and expels a gush of blood down the taller girl's face. It's enough to disorientate her and Clove crashes into her, pinning her down in a hold she can only have learnt at the District 2 Academy.

Thresh has regained his sword and is parrying Cato's advances. He slashes at the end of the spear and the wooden shaft splits down the middle. Cato drops it in surprise, but only for a second. He has his own sword out in no time. Thresh knows he can't beat Cato in a sword fight, not with his smaller, curved one. Instead he throws his weapon to one side and drops to the floor. He lifts an enormous dead log and throws it at Cato. The District 2 boy tries to leap out of the way but crashes into a tree, falling unconscious to the ground. Thresh takes a hasty look for his sword then decides to abandon it and approach the Cornucopia instead.

Clove is still on top of Katniss with a knife in her hand.

"I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show," she is telling her.

Katniss catches her drift and struggles against her body weight.

"I can't watch." Cinna sinks back into the sofa cushions and covers his face in despair.

"Forget it District 12." Cloves smiles cruelly. "We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy, How does that sound? Now where to start?"

She strokes the blade of the knife along Katniss's face.

"I think… I think we'll start with your mouth. Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips any more. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?"

Katniss gathers up a glob of saliva and blood and spits it right into Clove's face. Her girlish blush from earlier transforms into a blood red rage.

"All right then. Let's get started."

Thresh has reached the gold horn and he too has ferocity in his face. He grabs Clove by the hair, hoisting her into the air.

She screams and he replies by flipping her over and pounding her to the ground.

"What's happening? I haven't heard a cannon!" Cinna is still laying, protecting his sight, with his hands over his eyes.

I take his hands away.

"Look."

"What's you do to that little girl? You kill her?" Thresh is bellowing at Clove. I remember his crestfallen face when he saw his fallen District partner in the sky.

Clove denies her part in the murder.

"You said her name!" He thunders. "I heard you. You kill her? You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?" He has a large stone in his hand. I don't know when he picked that up. Maybe when he gave up on his sword.

"Cato! Cato!" Clove screams.

Cato is sitting up against the tree he fell against.

"Clove!" he calls back.

Thresh smashes the stone down on Clove's temple. It's one hit but it dents her skull, we can even see it from the wide shot. She crumples to the floor like a ragdoll, her eyes staring blankly, blinking slowly.

The enormous boy turns on Katniss and asks her about Rue. She tells him what she did for her and he gives her a chance.

"Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?"

She nods.

Cato is stumbling, holding his injured head in one hand, and his sword and broken spear in the other.

He sees his district partner on the ground.

"Clove!"

"You better run now, Fire Girl," Thresh tells Katniss before grabbing the 2 and 11 backpacks and heading in the opposite direction.

"Clove," Cato's voice sounds mournful. He drops to his knees next to her and inspects her wound. There's no blood but it's obvious that she's not ever getting up again. His face contorts in grief. "Clove! Oh my g—just stay with me ok?"

Her chest is heaving gently.

"Ca—" she starts, but her mouth doesn't seem to want to say what her brain is telling it to. Or at least what's left of her brain that is actually still working after that blow.

"I'm here, I'm here." He clutches her hand tightly.

"Ca… I…" She gasps for a breath. "Sorry."

"No!" Cato kisses her hand. "No! Don't you be sorry! Don't you say goodbye! We'll get some medicine. Brutus or Enobaria will send something."

"N…n…" Her hands are starting to shake but Cato just holds them even tighter. "Nothing to be done," she manages to say.

"This is my fault!" Cato growls, gritting his teeth. "I should have been the one to get the bag. I'm sorry Clove, we were going to win this, I'm sorry, you're so beautiful, I'm sorry."

"Shhhh," her breath hisses through her lips. "Shh…shouldn't've t…t…t…talked so m…m…m…much. Katniss. Shhh…shhould've done it. Shh…should've just t…t….told you. S'all t…to imp…press you."

"I knew," he replies gently and we see a tear rolling down his face. "You didn't know I was volunteering this year too…I didn't know you…until it was too late. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He presses a lingering kiss to her lips, his tears falling onto her cheeks.

Her cannon sounds. She's already dead.

Cinna turns off the television on Cato's grief-stricken scream to the sky and opens his mouth to say something.

I don't let him. I pull him down to me and we seize the day. It doesn't matter if we never speak again, because we've said what needs to be said. We've done what needed to be done. I've done what I needed to do. I've made progress. I guess that's something I can thank Cato and Clove for.


	59. Breaking Up

**Chapter Fifty-Nine- Breaking Up**

At 9am a guy in a jumpsuit appears to do a safety check on the appliances in the suite, just as Cinna predicted.

I take the opportunity to excuse myself. I feel smelly and achy from sleeping on the sofa all night so head back to my own room to shower.

The scene I witness when I open the suite door on the 7th floor is something I never thought I'd ever see.

Lalaney is back. She's kneeling down on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living area. She's pouring tea from a bejewelled pot into an equally dazzling cup. Sat on the sofa either side of her are Blight and Chaff, Finnick is in the armchair and they are all holding dainty matching teacups.

"What's going on?" I narrow my eyes.

"What do you mean what's going on? Where have you been?" Blight says slyly.

"Dirty stop-out," Finnick smirks, sipping his tea with his pinky sticking out.

This is completely surreal.

"Is this a dream?!" I pinch my forearms dramatically. "I mean…is this really happening? Did I just walk in on three Victors enjoying tea and pastries together?"

"We do this every Tuesday I'll have you know," Finnick purses his lips.

"No we don't," Chaff cuts in. "I spent the night on the sofa and Lalaney offered to make us some tea."

"Finnick just came around looking for you," Blight adds.

"Guys!" Finnick places his cup back into its saucer noisily. "You suck! We were totally freaking her out!"

"No you weren't," I roll my eyes and perch on the arm of Finnick's chair. "Did you see the feast this morning?"

Lalaney shakes her head vehemently and Blight shrugs.

"I did." Chaff slurps his tea. "The damned television turned itself on while I was sleeping."

"I hope you've got enough sponsor money, Cato's going to be after Thresh now. I doubt there's anywhere he can hide in that wheat field." I peer into Finnick's cup and take a sniff when he offers it to me.

"He'll be alright. He's got that armour now, neck to toe stuff."

Chaff doesn't seem to be worried about Thresh. He pushes a delicate pastry into his mouth and then notices that I'm looking at him. He smiles with flaky mush pressed against all his teeth.

"Chaff Miller!" Lalaney chastises him. "I will not invite you to our Tuesday tea parties if you cannot demonstrate good manners!"

The rest of us laugh at his shamed look until Blight starts to choke.

"You would have thought you'd've mastered breathing and drinking at the same time by now Blight," Finnick says, leaning over to bang him on the back.

"Honestly!" Lalaney rolls her eyes and flicks out a handkerchief for Blight to hack into. "Would you like a cup Johanna?"

I look around at the others holding their spangly cups and saucers.

"No I'm ok. I'm going to go for a shower if that's alright with everyone?"

"See boys, we ask permission before we up and leave!" My Escort gives both men either side of her a rap on the knees.

"Ow!" They chime in chorus.

"I only had to go to the bathroom!" Chaff whines.

I leave the boys squabbling with Lalaney and flop down on my perfectly made man-eating bed. It feels so good that I can't even move for a few minutes. Not even when there's a knock on the door.

"Yeah come in!" I call out, my voice muffled by the blanket that my face is mushed into.

It's Finnick.

"Where were you last night then?" he asks as he sits beside my prone body.

"Out."

"See that's what you say but...I don't think you were. I think you were very much in." He has a sickening smirk on his face. "Perhaps not in here but I know for a fact that you were in the building. In the building but not in your bed. Not in your bed or my bed in fact. Who's bed-"

"Alright, alright! I get your point! I think you've made up your own mind about where I was, so can we stop with the interrogation monologue and skip to the end when you accuse me of something?" I keep my face buried into the mattress so I don't have to look at him.

"Fine. Listen here Missy, you need to stay safe."

He's doing his impression of a Peacekeeper we saw in a Capitol short film last year. It was a Propo about kindly Peacekeepers helping old ladies across the road and returning a lost little girl to her home.

"You can't be running away from those who care for you," he continues.

"Gee thanks sir. I won't ever go to the park by myself again," I quote and pull a face. "Are you done? Because I need to shower."

"Can I come too?"

The creases already in my brow furrow further.

"Do you have to?"

He looks as though he's thinking about it before he nods very definitely.

"Yes I do."

"Fine but I am actually going naked because I really am smelly and really do need a shower," I tell him, hoping this will make him rethink his plan.

"Sounds great."

Oh man! This is going to be one of those serious conversations that we have to have under the sound of running water.

I sigh and start the shower running.

"Are you feeling setting 1, 2, 3, 4…" I peruse over the controls for the shower.

"I do love a good 17," he replies. Ah yes, the high-pressure noisy one.

I turn around to find Finnick completely naked, leaning against the door frame.

"Why are you naked?!" I exclaim.

"I didn't want you to feel self-conscious. Shall we?" He steps into the cubicle.

"What will Annie think about you showering naked with me?" I throw at him, still annoyed that my shower is being hijacked.

Finnick pokes his head out again.

"I'm going to ignore that blatant attempt to stir up guilt on my part, and request that you get in here now."

I groan loudly, shrug off my clothes and slide into the shower beside him.

I cover my chest with my arms when I stand under the spray. Finnick looks at me questioningly and I tell him,

"Setting 17 is pretty harsh, it kinda hurts."

"Soap?" Finnick pushes a button and something flowery smelling descends on us both.

"Is it too late to say no?" I wince as some of it dribbles into the corner of my eye. There's a selection of about twenty different scents and Finnick has inadvertently chosen the rose one.

"I smell like—"

"Here try this instead." He presses five other buttons but nothing covers the rosy scent that I find so sickening.

I'm thoroughly fed up now. I just wanted some time to myself and now I'm squashed and I smell nauseating.

"What is it you wanted?" I sigh as he lathers some of the soap in my hair.

"I know where you were last night," he says, sculpting my hair into a spike.

"So?"

"Ask me how I know."

"Am I going to get another long winded speech?"

He says nothing.

I roll my eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because you're letting me do this." He combs my hair back down again.

Damn.

"Out all night, coming home to shower. It doesn't take a genius to work out what you were doing either."

"It's allowed," I reply petulantly.

"Not really," he tells me curtly. "Inter-District relations and all that."

"Actually he's from the Capitol so I don't see how it's any different from any other evening."

"So it is Cinna then?"

"You said you knew!"

"Well I knew it was going to be either him or Byte, they're the only men I hear you talk about. I mean talk about politely of course."

"Jealous?" I smirk, thinking I've got his number.

He pushes me back, hands on my shoulders holding me at arms length. He stoops slightly to look straight into my eyes.

In hushed tones he tells me, "I want you to be careful Johanna. I know he's trying to help us with the rebellion but he's still Capitol. He has no vested interest in this, if it all goes wrong what does he stand to lose?"

"His tongue, his life?!" I hiss. "He's in this just as much as we are! Don't you dare, don't you dare tell me that the first person I let in since your nephew has no 'vested interest'."

"Don't get all defensive I'm just looking out for you. I find him a little... I don't know unreadable."

"When have you even talked to him?"

"He's helped me source something before. I don't know, he just appears to 'help' sometimes and I find it a bit eerie. I mean where does he get his instructions from?"

"No one knows where anyone gets their instructions from Finnick! Half the time I don't know if you're on a 'date' or doing something secret or just busy, that's just how it works!" I throw open the shower door and am about to storm out when Finnick grabs my arm. He roughly drags me back in and slams the door closed again.

"They're thinking of making you the face of the rebellion!" he exclaims. "Do you know what that would mean? It's a target on your back! You become the public figure of the rebellion and you become the public figure of Snow's retribution! They're trying to get you on side by getting Style Guy to chat you up!"

"No," I tell him.

"Yes Mason! They're planning something for next year! I don't know what it is but it's big and they want you at the front."

"It's not me Finnick. It's Katniss. They're going to make her their leader...if she makes it out of course."

"And what if she doesn't? Who's going to be their back up? Probably Cinna's new rebel girlfriend."

"Stop it, I'm not anyone's girlfriend! This is ridiculous. You know I don't want to be the rebel leader. My blood ran cold at the very idea! They aren't going to make me do anything I don't want to. You know me, they _can't_ make me do something I don't want to, it doesn't matter who I'm sleeping with."

I bang my palm on the on/off button of the shower, throw open the door and get out.

I've got a towel around me and my hand on the door handle when Finnick stops me.

"You know I'm just looking out for you," he says softly.

"I don't care," I mumble resisting the pull of his arms. "I wish you wouldn't."

"You don't mean that."

"I do Finnick! You know I've already had mini-panics about this whole…" I remember that now the shower is off we may be being broadcast live to Snow himself. "…thing. I don't need you diving in, freaking me out even more."

"Would you prefer it if I just left you alone?"

I think about it for a moment and then choose my words carefully.

"I think…in this instance…yes. Just this instance though," I say quickly. "I don't like having you over my shoulder when I'm already feeling weary. I don't like having you over my shoulder when I'm feeling good about it. I don't like worrying about what you're doing when I see you with…certain people…in places."

"You're saying we need to make some space?" His eyebrows knit together.

It must sound like we're breaking up, I muse to myself.

"Just in this instance," I reiterate. "I don't want to talk about _it_ anymore. I want to start showering _alone._" I don't want to have to hide our conversations with running water anymore.

"Ok…"

Keeping one hand on my towel now, I put the other arm around his middle.

"I don't want you worrying about me anymore and I don't want to worry about you anymore. I mean I'll always be here if you need me but…" My words fail.

"I know what you're trying to say." He chucks my chin with his knuckle. "I'm in deep, so will you be soon," he tells me. "It's better we leave it at that. I'm always here but it's going to be too complicated. You're right, there is a reason we're all kept in the dark and it should stay that way."

My chest tightens and I catch his hand in mine but can't find any words.

"Since we won't be showering together anymore, I guess I'll see you around kid."

A weak smile crosses my face and he hugs me tightly.

"Be careful, and I won't stop worrying about you," he whispers in my ear.

"I won't stop worrying about you either," I reply, then add. "I wish you'd put some clothes on though."

"You're not getting shy are you?" He grins. "You are starting to seem more and more like Katniss."

"Not shy, just bored of always seeing your bits!" I exclaim.

"I guess that's why Cinna likes you so much…"

"Jealousy makes you ugly."

"Now, now, let's not say anything hurtful."


	60. Priorities

**Chapter Sixty- Priorities**

Finnick bids his farewell to Lalaney, Blight and Chaff after pulling his clothes back on and I rejoin their tea party.

It rains for two days in the arena. Lalaney pulls the shades down on our window to stop our beaming sunlight from hampering the view of the dark and dreary scene on the television screen.

Katniss and Peeta are continuing their love-in, snuggling down into the same sleeping bag and sharing home truths about how deeply they feel for each other. It makes me cringe. I find myself swerving away from the living area and out of the suite door whenever I see them now.

The first time this happens I'm at a bit of a loss of what to do with myself. I start missing Finnick quite quickly. Its not just him I miss either. I miss going down to the 4th floor and being force fed by Mags. I miss flicking through Finnick's crazy fanmail. I even miss helping him throw out the slutty underwear he gets sent.

I don't want to go to Cinna because for the first time in my memory, I experience that strange phenomenon of second guessing my own behaviour. I get in the elevator and, my finger hovering over the button for 12, I think about what Finnick said about me being Cinna's girlfriend. I don't want to be anyone's girlfriend and I don't want to give Cinna the wrong idea.

I remember all the girls at school who were somebody's 'girlfriend', running around holding hands, giggling, sharing their lunch, gossiping about how to tie their ribbons into intricate shapes to impress their 'boyfriends'. I despised them. I'm not going to skip off to him when I'm bored because I've fallen out with my friend.

I hate not knowing what to do with myself so I go up to the roof terrace instead.

The sun beats down on the mini-garden area that I first encountered Katniss and Peeta in so I take off my cardigan and lay down on a bench soaking up the warmth.

I enjoy lazing in the sun like a well-fed house cat so much that I return every time the District 12 lovers are performing their show.

On the second day of rainfall in the arena I take a book from the fancy shelf above the fireplace to read in the sun. I've never been much of a reader. I mean who has the time to read a whole book when you're worrying about other things like whether taking the extra bit of bread for lunch will mean your parents won't eat at all?

I have all the best intentions of giving reading it a good go but mainly use it as a sunshade, angling it to cast a shadow on my face.

Then I start to doze and lower the book down until it just lays open on my face. Before I drift off I wonder if the words from the page will transfer onto my skin and I'll just absorb the complicated plot line without having to read it. I chuckle at myself.

When I drift off I dream that I'm on my little tree house platform from my arena. One of my 'dates' has told me that it's now a high-end vacation destination. The whole forest has been turned into a gigantic resort of tree houses with my crude one remaining undisturbed and fenced off for people to visit.

In my dream I'm laying under the canvas sheet shelter but the sunlight is still touching my face. It's lovely...until I can see the sunlight flickering through my eyelids. When I open my eyes I find that it's not sunlight at all, it's cameras flashing in my face. I'm laying on the platform while dozens of Capitol citizens lean over a thick red rope to gawp at me. Underneath me the platform shakes with the weight of stamping feet. It won't hold. I scream explicitly at the crowd to go away or we'll all fall and break our necks. They ignore me. One of the ropes snaps and a rush of them flow out onto the platform. It's like a stampede. The logs that I'd gathered and carefully looped together begin to splinter.

"No! Get back!" I screech but the tree itself begins to rock and grind.

There's a loud metallic bang that doesn't seem to fit with the other sounds in my dream. It rouses me from sleep and I sit bolt upright squinting in the suddenly blinding light.

Byte looks startled, still holding the door out onto the terrace. It must've been the elevator doors opening that made the unexpected metallic noise that woke me.

"Err hi," he says nervously.

"Hi." I can feel my cheeks turning pink from the sudden adrenaline rush of being woken up. "What's up?" I try to look casual as I pick up my fallen book and push down the initial panic my dream had left me with.

"Nothing," he shrugs, letting the door close. He has a red plastic box under his arm. "I just thought I'd come up here and err...work on my talent." He matches my blush with a scarlet one of his own.

"Sorry, I didn't really pay attention to your Victory Tour," I tell him. He'd come to District 7 of course, but Blight, Egor and I had a polite dinner with him and our Mayor but it was a boring affair and we barely talked.

"My talent is gardening." He flashes an apologetic smile. "I find it pretty calming, you know having a bed to de-weed and then planting something useful in its place."

He kneels down beside one of the urns of soil next to my sunbathing spot and starts to unpack his red box.

"My Mother's recently started gardening," I inform him, peering into his treasure chest. "I don't know the difference between a weed and a...opposite of a weed. Is this a weapon?!" I pick up a mini-trident.

"It's a gardening fork," he chuckles and immediately takes it off me.

"And it's used for what? Spearing worms?"

The chuckle evolves into a hearty laugh. I've never heard him laugh before. His smile suits his face a lot more than his usual forlorn look. I tell him so.

"Thanks," he replies. "I guess I miss laughing too. There's not much to laugh about around here at this time of year."

"What about at home?" I ask. "Is there much to laugh about in District 3?"

"It's better than here," he replies, digging his fork into the pot of dirt.

"You have family?"

"No. My father died before I was born in an accident at the factory and my mother died giving birth to my little sister. We don't have very good healthcare in District 3. We don't need to according to the Capitol since technology is a sedentary industry."

I think about the lessons we all had in District 7 about how to make tourniquets and our healers in their small lodges dotted around the lumberyard and forest work sites. I guess we need medical assistance more urgently than the District 3 workers at their computers.

"So it's just you and your sister?"

"Yeah, we were in a Community Home until last year and now we live with Agnes and Wiress in the house they share. Beetee offered for us to live with him first but Agnes said that he'd probably get caught up in one of his projects and forget to feed us."

"How old is your sister?"

"Holly's 13 now."

"So, last year was her first reaping then?"

"Yeah, and I got picked, wasn't the greatest experience for her. I have to do everything I'm told now because her name could just as easily come out next year."

Just like Joey.

"Can I help?" I pick up a little handheld spade and kneel over the urn with him. "I'm pretty good at digging holes."

He smiles and shows me which plants to pull out and how to make sure all the roots are out as well.

While we work we talk about our homes. His new Victor's home is a three story grey stone manor house with dormer windows on the top level. Last winter it snowed so much that the snow gathered on the roof and almost hid the windows from sight.

It snowed in District 7 a lot last winter too. We were pretty much cut off from the main town for a week. Egor and Joey made an army of snowmen in the square outside our houses while Blight and I shovelled snow off the road so that we could get into town for supplies. Mother was still catatonic then. I don't know if she watched us working away all week out of her bedroom window, or if she even knew it had been snowing.

"But she's better now?" Byte asks me gently.

I hadn't realised I was saying all this aloud.

"On the phone Joey says she's been out and about. She's taken up fixing our garden apparently."

"That's a good sign."

"It'll be a good sign if she keeps doing it after I get back." I grimace. "She tends to grind to a halt again around me. Mind you most of the times I come back, somebody we love has died."

"Perhaps that's why she's taken up gardening, to preoccupy her mind so she's not thinking about 'who might be next'." Byte flushes red again. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by that."

"It's ok, it's probably true." I look up at him. He's got a streak of dirt across his brow where he's wiped it with his filthy hand. "We've swapped roles at some point here haven't we? I was sure I was going to be the wise one offering advice."

His eyes flick up towards me and then look back down at his work.

"Sorry, I didn't want to assume that—"

"No, no don't apologise, everything you said is true, it's just a surprise to meet this Byte. He's much better company than the Byte from a few days ago."

"I know. I don't know how long this Byte's going to last though, I'm pretty sure the other one will be back around the time of the Victor's Interview when we're all on camera again."

"Hey don't worry, it won't be too bad. I'll be there and—" I start but I am suddenly interrupted by the thundering bang of the door to the terrace flying open.

Chaff bursts through it and stands at the edge of the roof, his hand on the balustrade. He shakes it hard and emits a ferocious roar.

Byte and I share a terrified look but don't dare interrupt him.

When his breath gives out, he screams angrily three more times before banging his fist down on the rail once more and stomping back into the building without noticing us.

"What was that about?" Byte asks, his eyes wide.

"I'm guessing Cato finally found Thresh," I answer him, dropping my little spade. "Sorry, will you excuse me? I have to go and find out."

"Sure…err…see you around Johanna."

"Yup, see you at the Victor's Interview definitely. I'll be the one dressed like a fool…well one of," I wink, gather my book and summon the elevator down to the 7th Floor.

"What's happened?" I demand as soon as I've flung the door open.

No one is in the living area but there is broken glass on the floor. I drop to inspect it and find blood drops on the sofa cushions.

"Hello?!" I tear through the suite, banging on doors and calling out names. Where is everyone? Maybe Chaff wasn't upset about the Game, maybe something's happened here! Maybe the rebellion has been found out!

"Blight! Lalaney!" I call desperately again. Nothing. If the rebellion has been found out then…everyone Finnick, Cinna, Beetee could be in danger.

Before I can even think properly I'm in the elevator stabbing a button. I need to make sure he's ok before I can start planning anything.

The suite door opens abruptly in the middle of my frantic banging.

"Where is he?" I demand pushing my way into the suite. "Where's Finnick?"

"He's out," Sandy says, shutting the door behind me. "Come in by the way."

"Where? Out where? When did he go?"

"About an hour ago, I don't know, I'm not his mother." She shrugs.

"Obviously," I spit. "When is he expected back?"

"Don't speak to me like that! I'm not some terrified Tribute you can intimidate you know!"

I grab her by the dainty lace collar and hiss in her face, "How about now Sandy? Are you intimidated now?"

"Mason what are you doing?!" Finnick's slaps a hand onto my shoulder.

"Out huh?" I thunder at her.

Finnick pulls me away before I can bury my fist into her nose. He bundles me into his bedroom and then stands against the door in case I make a break for her again.

"What is the matter with you?" he demands. "Two days ago you didn't want to see me anymore and now you're raging up a storm in my living room."

"I didn't say I didn't want to see you anymore! She said you were—" I protest but he holds a hand up silencing me.

"Why are you here?"

"Something's happened. Chaff was on the roof bellowing the clouds down from the sky and I can't find Blight or Lalaney. Then Sandy said that you were gone too and I…I was worried." I grab him around the middle and hold him tightly.

"Cato attacked Thresh from behind in the rain. He got in a few innocuous swipes but didn't stand a chance in the end. That's what Chaff's angry about and I saw Blight and Lalaney on their way to the medical wing. Blight had a big gash on across his palm, it's going to need stitches from the looks of it."

"The broken glass," I murmur.

"What did you think was going on?"

"I thought…I thought that something had gone wrong. That everyone was in trouble."

"Everyone…everyone being me and…?"

I can see where this is going and pull away from him.

"Yes alright…I did think about him too."

"But you came to me first?"

"Well…" I stumble, trying to avoid his eyes. "I…I realised…the 4th floor is closer than the 12th!"

"Bullcrap." He laughs and drags me back into his body. "Admit it, you like me more than Cinna."

"I don't right now," I say, my face squashed against his chest.

"Yes you do, you came to save me first."

"Only because I knew they'd probably spring you while you were doing your hair. Let me go, so I can check on Blight."

"Still not Cinna?"

Damn it! What's wrong with me?!

"He can look after himself," I retort. "Blight's blood is probably so thin, thanks to the alcohol constantly in his system, he might be bleeding to death."

"Well I guess I better let you go then…" but he doesn't loosen his grip on me.

"Err Finnick?"

"One more minute! I've missed you, you mouthy little thing."

So we stand there holding each other for one more minute before I break away to tend to my other priorities: my Mentor and Escort.


	61. A Weird Family

******A/N- I'm afraid this is half a chapter. It was getting a bit long so I've chopped it down and published this half. I'll make the other half Chapter 62 and upload it when it's done sometime next week.**

**Chapter Sixty-One- A Weird Family  
**

Blight is a little embarrassed but otherwise fine. The doctor puts five stitches into his hand and tells him to go steady with it until the stitches dissolve when the skin has knitted together.

We spend the elevator ride listening to Lalaney berating him fiercely.

"I hope this makes you realise that you're not invincible. Are you listening too Johanna? No one is invincible. You'll have to stop the drinking of course Blight, and have to…"

Blight pulls a face behind her and I smother a laugh.

As soon as we get into the suite, Blight pours himself a drink as an Avox is clearing away the broken shards of his last. Lalaney raises an eyebrow and Blight scowls petulantly, switching the glass to his uninjured hand.

We eat dinner together, like a weird family, and then Blight sets up his favourite way to humiliate me. It's that chequered board game again.

"No," I tell him firmly as soon as I see it. "No. Not again!"

"Come on, it'll help with your strategic planning."

"No it won't because you keep changing the rules!"

"No I don't, look it's easy, this one can only move forward one space, unless it's the first time it's moved or if it's going to take another one. So look first go, you can move anyone of them forward two squares."

"What?! What is all this 'unless'?"

"Do we have to do this again?" Lalaney rubs her temples. "The game almost ended in fisticuffs last time."

Blight rolls his eyes and continues, "Remember from last time Johanna? Look just move a piece and we'll talk through it as we go."

As it happens…it does nearly end in 'fisticuffs' again.

"You said I could only move that one one space forward, backward, sideways or diagonally! Why have you swapped those two over and moved them both?!" I holler at Blight.

"Because it's called Castling and I'm allowed to, we went over this!" he bellows back.

"You're just changing the rules to suit you because I could do this!" I grab one of my black pieces and jump it over several white ones, sweeping them all off the board.

"You _can't_ do that!" Blight's face is now positively maroon. "I need a drink!" he sighs, sitting back.

I happily upturn the board again.

"Game over, I'm going to bed."

"Johanna," Lalaney sighs. It's that same sigh that my mother used to produce after I'd stropped my father into submission. Perhaps we are, in a way, a weird family.

In the morning I call Joey to check on things at home. He sounds bright as usual and we chat about his new best friend, Ash, who sounds like trouble.

"He said we should hide behind the shed at the end of playtime and go round to the yard. He said he'd stashed away some sweets that his grandpa had given him for his birthday last month. I didn't go but some of the boys did and they said they'd sharpened some stones and made axes."

"Joey…"

"I didn't go!"

"I know you didn't but I think you know what kind of trouble there'd be if they were caught, especially if they were making weapons! I think you should stay away from these boys Jo."

"But they're my friends!" he pleads.

"Not if they get you in trouble they're not! What does Mother think of this?"

"She's fine with it."

"She's fine with it?" I raise a suspicious eyebrow even though I know he can't see it.

"Well...she's doing her thing and letting me do mine."

"Joey! You're 9! You're not allowed a 'thing' of your own."

"Jo-Jo..." His voice sounds low, not the high-pitched whine of protest I'm expecting.

"What is it?"

"When are you coming home?"

"Not much longer now. A couple more days of gameplay then the Victors Interview and party and then I'm on a train back buddy."

"Shall I tell Mother?"

I take in a deep breath as I think. She probably should be warned, especially if what Byte suggested is true and she's worried about what my return home might bring. But I haven't done anything wrong this year have I? I mean unless Snow finds out about Trinity Marther's trip to the Population Division of course...he probably won't this late in the game...will he?

"No, don't tell her. Just…Joey please stay indoors for a couple of days until I get back. These boys sound like bad news as it is but stay with Mother for a bit will you? Check the door before you open it to someone and if there're Peacekeepers or strangers in the Village go to that hiding place I showed you."

When we first moved into our house I searched it for possible hideouts in case we had to stow away. I discovered that the floorboards in the cupboard under the stairs hid a tiny crawl space that two of us could squeeze into. Now that Joey's bigger it'll only hold him, but hopefully it'll be enough to wait out whoever could be exacting Snow's revenge until I can get back and beat the crap out of them.

After I hang up the phone I feel a little down about my return home so I stop outside Blight's room and press my ear to the door.

There's some movement in there so I knock gently.

There's a dull croak from somewhere deep in the recesses so I push open the door and go in.

"Are you up?" I call into the darkness. My room never gets this dark during the day, even with the curtains closed.

"More or less," comes the low reply. He must have had a few more drinks after I terminated our battle of wits. "What's the matter? You never come in here. Why are you here?"

He has a point, I don't think I've ever been further into his room than the doorway.

"Can I come in?"

He makes a non-descript grunt and turns on a sidelight.

"Do you want me to open the shades?" I start towards the window.

"No!" He sits up. "I'm up, don't touch them. I don't _do_ daylight in here."

There's a musty smell in here that makes me wonder whether those curtains have moved at all in all the years he's been here.

"I just came because I'm feeling a little…weird about going home to my mother you know?" I perch down on the edge of the messy bed. It looks like he's pulled all the sheets up and twisted them ninety degrees. "I guess I just needed some reminding about how it's not the end of the world if she goes back into her mini-coma."

"You'd rather stay here?"

"Well no, of course not…but sometimes I wonder if it's better for Joey if I did. He'd get to be with Mother properly…"

"Johanna, this past year while your mother's been 'absent'. Has Joey seemed at all unhappy?"

"No but Egor's had him pumped full of sugar twenty-four hours a day, it's a wonder he even sleeps."

"He's a young boy Johanna, and you're looking out for him, keeping him busy, that's all he needs. When he gets older, or when you get married—"

I scoff.

"Let's just suspend reality for a second and say you want to move on, _then_ he'll struggle if your mother hasn't recovered. But for the moment he's happy and provided for so don't worry about him, it'll do more damage if you don't come home."

I open my mouth to ask him how long we have until he 'gets older' and starts to hate me for estranging our mother, but there's another knock on his door.

"What is this? The Capitol Train Station?" Blight sighs when Lalaney lets herself in.

"Oh well I'll go right back out again," our escort pouts.

"No, no, come on in, join the party." Blight pulls the covers over his hand and waves his hand, signalling for her to start talking.

"Well I was going to invite you both for lunch, somewhere nice. There are only four Tributes left, poor Thresh, so you're both likely to be on your way home soon. You know how they like to skittle the last few."

I shudder a little, reminded of the end of Byte's Game, Titan and District 2, and also of Chantal, Granite and Absalom. How quickly those 'skittles fell'.

We agree to a lunch and Blight ousts us from his room while he gets up and showers.

It is a swanky place that Lalaney takes us. I'd've been happy with going for something deep-fried in fat at The Pit but my escort waves my suggestion away and calls for a car.

A Peacekeeper touches his ear and sends a message to…wherever their messages go…that Blight and I have left in a black car with a certain registration number. We will probably be followed to wherever our destination is.

I recognise the restaurant but can't recall being here before. It must have been on a 'date'. The staff recognise me and Blight of course and the owner rushes out to greet us.

He is a short fat man with bright red hair atop a balding blue scalp. He kisses my hand and shakes Blights.

"Always a pleasure to host District 7!" he exclaims clapping his hands together like a child. "Come with me, your table is on the balcony as requested."

"Our table? As requested?" I turn to frown at Lalaney. "I thought this was a spur of the moment thing."

She doesn't answer and just pushes me up some stairs after the restaurant's owner.

I'm frog-marched out to a terrace that overlooks some sort of park in which children are playing below. In fact a kite hits the fence of the terrace and the owner screams down at it's master. Evidently this is not the first time this has happened.

"Don't you know I got Victors here! They'll come and cut off your heads if you do that again! You little—"

Lalaney clears her throat.

"Could we have some drinks?"

The owner thrusts a rude hand gesture at the kids below before turning back to us.

"Terribly sorry about that, these damn kids'll be the death of me. I need a vacation. I was thinking of visiting your old site actually," he nods to Blight. "Lovely bit of sun there wasn't there?"

"Bring me something strong," Blight interrupts.

"Sure, and for the ladies?"

Lalaney and I order water and sip it piously while Blight downs his drink and immediately asks for another.

We are receiving our meals when the owner scurries back out to us looking worried.

"I'm so sorry to do this but would you mind sharing the terrace with one other party? There's been some mistake with the reservations. It's just a table for one. Would that be ok?"

I've half a mind to tell him no, it isn't and I'm going to have to come and cut off his head since that's apparently what us Victors do when we're displeased. Before I have time to utter my well thought out quip Lalaney has given the ok and the owner is ushering someone else in.

"Well of all the bars in all Panem…"

"Lalaney!" I bang my cutlery down onto the table and glare at her. "This stinks of manipulation!"

"I'm sorry, he made me. I didn't want to, I thought it was manipulative but you know what he's like when he's got an idea about something! It was exactly the same when he was mentoring Annie and I told him not to get too close."

Finnick's been meddling.

"Nice to see you again Johanna." Cinna offers his hand for me to shake. "It's been a few days."

"I know, I'm sorry." I bite my lower lip anxiously. "This is so awkward!"

Now slightly merry, Blight chuckles behind me. Urgh he's _just_ like an embarrassing parent!

"Do you want to join me? We can talk?" Cinna gestures to the freshly made up table.

Before I can even answer a waiter has picked up my plate and transferred it to Cinna's table.

"I guess I will then," I say and Blight laughs again. I 'accidentally' smack him across the head as I squeeze past.

"How've you been?" Cinna offers me a glass of wine, which I decline in favour of my water.

"Good, good. Look I'm sorry that I haven't spoken to you since the other night," I blurt out.

"Oh no!" Cinna exclaims. "I thought you were mad with _me_ for not calling _you! _I've been working so hard on Katniss and Peeta's Victory Tour wardrobes, I literally haven't stopped. I'm meeting a sponsor here in half an hour for a drink to talk funding but I thought I'd get a bite to eat first."

"You're pretty sure they're going to win then?"

"Thresh is down." He shrugs.

Down, fallen, just say dead.

"Just Cato and….."

"Merade," I remind him.

"Yes, two to go. You should see the gown Sophocles has ready for the red-head, stunning turquoise silk with red petticoat, it's a shame no one will get to see it. She's looking hungry."

"If she keeps her wits about her, she'll stay alive." I purse my lips. "Katniss and Peeta seem to have forgotten all about her, they've been focussed on Cato."

"Maybe she will win, and maybe Katniss and Peeta will die. I don't know why you're so against them though."

I'm not in the mood for this conversation. I'm in the mood for cutting to the chase.

"What are we going to do then Cinna?" I shovel in another forkful of food.

"About what?"

"You know. About us." I gulp down the remainder of my water. If this conversation doesn't go well, I may have to make a sharp exit. "We had a really good time the other night…"

"But you've had an equally good time the past few days alone and now you don't know what you want?" he offers.

Man, he is good.

"I've been busy," I try but he shakes his head.

"No you haven't. You've been with Finnick Odair haven't you?"

"Barely!" I exclaim indignantly.

He laughs.

"Don't worry, I get it. Like you said you have Victor 'stuff' that I can't help you with. You and Finnick have this special friendship that I wouldn't even dream of competing with. I mean can you imagine me fighting for a girl with _Finnick Odair_? I wouldn't stand a chance—"

"It's not like that," I cut in.

"No, I know not to believe the gossip reels but…you probably already know but he's been scoping me out. He was at the 12th Floor when I came to replace some of Effie's wigs. He'd been drinking tea with Effie. Of course when I arrived he said he'd been told that I had something for him. When I told him I didn't know what he was talking about he said it must've been a mistake and left straight away. Effie was giggly for about an hour afterwards."

This brings an amused smirk to my face. Of course Finnick would get his information from simpering ladies.

"I'm just saying," he continues. "I don't mind. You have your 'stuff' and that's ok and I…I'm going to be really busy if Katniss and Peeta pull this off. We're only going to end up letting each other down somewhere along the way."

"What happened to 'seize the day'?"

"We did didn't we?"

"Wait…" I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you just saying this because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"Isn't it?"

I sigh. He's right again. Damn him.

"Maybe."

"But it's true that you'll be going home soon and I'll never get a travel permit to District 7. It's never going to be anything serious is it? Not while things are like they are. Perhaps after."

After the rebellion.

"So…what you're saying is that we need to work for the future before we seize the day….and I was right?"

"Alright, you don't have to look so pleased with yourself," he chuckles.

I ignore him.

"If my character up until now has one consistent trait, it's that I like winning. The whole of Panem knows that I like winning," I remind him. "Let me have this."

He reaches over and interlinks his fingers with mine.

"Maybe we can pick up again next year? 75's my lucky number."

"Maybe."

"And maybe you'll let me do something about your hair?"

"That's going to be a no."

"I had to try."

Behind me Lalaney is finishing her last bite of lunch and Blight is fumbling in his pockets for some money.

"Johanna are you coming back with us or…" Blight asks.

"Yeah," I say softly, still looking at Cinna. "See you around?"

"Yeah." He cups my jaw in his hand, "See you around." He leaves a kiss on my forehead that I can still feel even after we've got back into the car.


	62. A Stupid Mistake

**Chapter Sixty-Two- A Stupid Mistake**

The Peacekeeper on the door touches his ear again when Blight and I arrive back at the Training Center. I've spent the entire car ride back berating the two of them for going behind my back, whether Blight was involved or not.

"You sniggered, and that is tantamount to involvement!" I jab my finger at him.

The elevator stops at the 3rd Floor and Byte embarks, carrying his box of gardening goodies.

"Another lovely day for it," Lalaney says politely to him, probably glad of the distraction on my part.

"Yes it is," he smiles briefly. "It'll break soon though."

"Yes, rain forecast for next week isn't it?"

"He might not be here by then," I mutter and Byte nods slowly. "All packed already?" I ask him.

"Some bits," he replies. He seems distracted, or perhaps just shy around Lalaney and Blight. When we stop at the 12th Floor I let them go ahead of me and then wait in the way of the elevator doors.

"You ok?" I whisper.

"Yup."

I hear the television turn on within the suite.

"If you need anything, like someone to…"

"Spear worms?" Finally, there's that smile.

"Something like that." I match his grin.

Lalaney's voice rings through the suite.

"Johanna!"

I sigh and roll my eyes apologetically at Byte.

"What?"

"Come here please."

"I'm talking!"

"You won't want to miss this!"

I sigh loudly, just to be sure that she hears.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask him. "Obviously my Escort has forgotten all ideas about social courtesy at the moment."

Inside I hear Lalaney's laugh explode in a most unladylike manner.

"No, it's ok. I've only got twenty minutes and then I've got 'things' to do," he looks down at the floor and I wonder if this means his red envelopes have started arriving again.

"Haven't we all?" I reply, rolling my eyes. I step out of the way of the elevator doors and watch him press the roof terrace button again.

I go back into the suite and bang the door closed behind me.

"What is so important?" I whine, falling into my usual armchair.

"Right, you're starving," she tells me.

"Am I?" I frown, looking down at my stomach, still bloated from lunch.

"No, imagine it!" She instructs.

"Not hard." I close my eyes and remember my childhood. Mother and Father tried their best but we were still hungry. Always hungry.

"You're hungry," Lalaney sets the scene, "roaming around almost delirious when you realise there's someone else. Someone not hungry. What do you think?"

"I think that they must know something I don't, like where there's food or how to hunt it down."

"Good, now what do you do?"

"Follow them to the food source and then come back when they're gone or take some of their spoils if they've been hunting."

"Excellent," she claps her hands, pleased. "Katniss and Peeta are in Merade's territory."

I open my eyes and turn them towards the television screen.

"And let me guess, she's following them? Possibly to the end of pinching a few supplies?"

"It's what you would do."

It certainly is. There was a reason I had to scavenge off the Careers' stash at the Cornucopia three years ago and that was because I showed no skill whatsoever in capturing my own food. What would I have done if somebody had blown up those supplies like Katniss did this year? Merade, like me, was also relying on other people for food.

Just like Cinna said, she's looking really hungry, far worse than she had at the feast a few days ago. Her face is gaunt, ghostly even, her wide eyes bulging out grotesquely. She moves jerkily through the trees but still takes care to move quietly. Lucky for her Peeta's still injured leg is masking any sound she might be making. At the moment she is moving parallel to them. If Katniss decides to turn east sharply she'll come across Merade's movements pretty quickly.

"Katniss." Peeta stops. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game."

They discuss this option and Merade watches from a tree nearby, her eyes shooting back and forth between the two of them waiting for the result.

"If they split up, I reckon she could have Peeta," Blight comments, hiccupping after his excesses at the restaurant.

"Ok so just whistle those two notes every so often so I know you're ok," Katniss reminds Peeta. "The mockingjays will carry it over some distance so I should hear it. If I don't hear it, I come running ok?"

"Sure Mom," Peeta winks and Katniss rolls her eyes, but she manages a smile.

Katniss stalks off with the bow, leaving Peeta to search for roots and berries that they can eat with the host of game that she is sure to bring back.

"I wish _I_ was Katniss," I say maliciously to no one in particular. "Don't you wish _you _were Katniss? Isn't she amazing, I wish I was her."

Merade carefully watches Peeta pottering around collecting things that he thinks will be helpful. Too many of them look too much like the things I was helping Byte dig out of the urns on the roof terrace to me. Every so often he whistles up to the sky and the birds mimic his two-note tune. The camera cuts to Katniss receiving his message.

This goes on for ten minutes before we're all getting bored so instead we see Cato.

He's rubbing a sponsor gift into the injuries he sustained from his fight with Thresh, equally as uninteresting.

"Something's going to happen soon, people will be getting bored," Lalaney murmurs. "The worst things happen when the Gamemakers get bored. I was just starting my training to be an escort. My Tutor, was the Escort for District 4 during Finnick's Game. He was completely walking it, the rest of the Careers completely overlooked him because of his age. His District partner was completely in love with him. Then it got a little 'samey' my Tutor said, hunt, trap, kill until the numbers went down and it got harder to find everyone. Finnick was setting up traps all over the place but not getting anywhere because everyone was so spread out. It was 'boring' apparently. So one night enormous…I guess they were like spiders, came out and wrapped sleeping Tributes in web chrysalises that they couldn't get out of. They lay there helplessly trapped until animals or other Tributes came across them and killed them. One girl couldn't move as a mountain lion ate her."

I remember those things. It was one night during a two week Game, it barely registered as an event during the Highlights but kids at my school were terrified of spiders in the schoolyard for a long time after. I'd completely forgotten about it until now. It would explain why Finnick brushes down his bed before he gets in. I just assumed it was a neatness thing, Mags always makes sure he's tidy, but it must be an after-effect of the muttations. Victor, Killer, Sweetheart of the Nation Finnick Odair is afraid of spiders in his bed.

I shouldn't laugh, I haven't been able to look at cute bunny rabbits the same since my ordeal with mutts.

"Of course there's Annie as well. My first year," Lalaney continues. "after her…incident…things slowed down so the Gamemakers triggered an earthquake to liven things up a little. It burst a dam in the arena and all of the remaining Tributes drowned. It was awful to watch!"

Yes, poor, poor Annie. I'm getting a bit fed up of hearing 'poor Annie'. We've all been through horrible, awful stuff, some of us still are, but we deal with it. What can _really _be wrong with her? I know she seemed a little fragile when I met her on my Victory Tour but that was a year after her Game. How bad can she be now _four years _after her victory? I'd never dare say this in front of Finnick obviously.

"What is the matter with her?" I ask Lalaney, who is altogether a much safer person to ask.

"Well because she doesn't come to the Capitol anymore I haven't seen her since your Victory Tour but Finnick says she's getting better. She used to just drop out of consciousness but without going to sleep. She'd be talking to you and then something would occur to her and she'd just go completely vacant. It was terribly alarming. Then when she came back to join you she'd say something strange as though she assumed you could hear her thoughts or see her hallucinations."

Peeta and Merade are back on the screen. He's pondering over some berries on a bush near a stream and she's watching in earnest. They've been in her territory all along but she hasn't noticed them until just now, or she was unsure about them. If Peeta picks them then she has verification that they're safe.

"How does Finnick stick with her then? If she's ignoring everyone and then talking nonsense?" I ask.

Lalaney shrugs, "Because he loves her."

I curl my upper lip, "That's such cop out answer."

Peeta picks two handfuls of the berries and brings them back to the layer of plastic that he's laid out. He drops his and Katniss's pack down next to the sheet and heads back off to the stream to collect more.

Merade, when sure he's out of range, creeps out from her hiding place and, like a cat, paws through the food.

"Why doesn't she just take the whole pack and run for it?" Lalaney asks me as though I am the insight into Merade's own thought.

As it happens I am, "Because she's weak and Katniss is scary to her. It's the fastest way to bring her straight after her. The same reason she didn't grab all the other bags at the feast. She'll take a little bite out of something unnoticeable and then follow them, leeching their supplies bit by bit."

Sure enough she takes a few crumbs of cheese and a few of the berries and then retreats to a safe distance. She wraps the cheese and all but three of the berries in a strip of her pants material and tucks it in her loose waistband to save for later. She eats the berries and continues to watch Peeta.

She jumps, surprised, when Katniss crashes through the trees calling for her district partner. She almost shoots him at point blank range when she runs straight into him.

She cries at him that she was worried when she didn't hear his mockingjay tune. The camera changes, we can hear Katniss's angry voice but can't see her anymore.

Merade is going pale. Paler than usual. She lurches from her spot holding her stomach. She shoves her fingers down her throat but heaves nothing up. Her stomach is empty except for those three berries.

"She's poisoned," I say, shocked. "Stupid, stupid mistake."

"Peeta? Did he know she was there then?"

"No, no she ate those berries because she was sure he meant to eat them himself. What are they?"

"Nothing I've seen before," Blight pipes up from his drunken doze in the corner.

"Maybe she'll just be sick for a while," offers Lalaney.

The redhead drops to the floor and rolls onto her back, burbling something.

Dark red foam bubbles between her lips and her cannon booms before it even has time to leak down her face. I can't take my eyes off what I'm seeing. Everyone's compared her strategy to mine, heck I can even see the similarities, this mistake so easily could have been mine. That stupid, stupid mistake, so easily made, so terribly costly.

"Three to go now," I say quietly.


	63. The Dead And The Living

**Chapter Sixty-Three- The Dead And The Living**

Merade's death has hit me like the death of one of District 7s own Tributes. 'It could have been me' rings through my mind over and over. After I left my treehouse there was nothing stopping me reaching out and grabbing a handful of something nasty. When I was wandering around distraught after Red's death, or hungrily combing the arena for surviving Tributes, I could have snaffled anything.

When I come out of my thoughts I find I've gotten to my feet. Lalaney and Blight are looking up at me expectantly.

"Are you ok?" Lalaney asks, gently.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I...er...I'm going to get some air."

I'm on the roof terrace in no time. Byte isn't here, I must've just missed him but I don't mind. I'd rather be alone.

I lean on the balustrade and look down to the city below.

Motorcars are buzzing through the street, it's a busy Saturday in the Capitol. People living their lives down there, us living our lives up here while Hetty, Hemlock, Merade, Thresh, Alder, Camellia and Red lay peacefully in their home soil. I wonder who's really got it made. They can't make anymore mistakes, they'll stay young and tragic forever. I wonder if there's a Tribute afterlife. Do they get to live out the rest of their lives as if they'd never been reaped? Do they shake hands with each other and forgive those who murdered them? Do they hate us, the living, the ones who survived?

Hetty, Hemlock, Alder and Camellia probably hate me. I couldn't save them. I couldn't save Red. Does he hate me? I acted too late. I was angry with Abe, chased him when I could have been stemming the blood pouring out of Red's gut. What was the last thing he said to me?

Oh crap…what _was _it? Why have I forgotten?!

My hand flies to my neck. I'm not wearing the locket! I know exactly where it is, it's on the bedside table, I just haven't put it on. This damn rebellion has taken my mind off…everything.

My grip on the cold, black metal tightens as I try to force the memories to come back. Something I thought I'd never do. I've tried so hard to push them away and now I need them to come back.

I see his blood. I see my soaked jacket. I see the rain on his ashen face.

"_Promise me you'll go to him…when you win." _I finally hear his District 4 accent, so perfectly identical to Finnick's. 

"I will," I repeat aloud to the skyline.

"Make sure he's ok. He'll pretend that he's fine, but he hides things that he cares about. He's hidden me before."

It's all coming back so clearly that it takes my breath away.

"_Weren't we fighting?"_.

"You were too charming dear."

"Did I ask you to marry me?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Thought so."

His last smile.

My sinuses start to tingle and my eyelashes are feeling wetter. No. No. I won't cry again. Not here. I _won't_.

If Abe had been a better aim, perhaps it would have been Red standing here, and I would be in Tribute limbo. Then again Red would have been prize pickings for Snow and his vultures, especially with him having Odair blood. He might have been here but he would have been a shadow of himself. Like Byte. So…did I save him? I mean not from Abe or Tribute limbo but he'll stay perfect. Not broken, like me.

I don't know how long I spend up on the roof, wallowing in my own memories and sense of morbidity.

It's dark when someone picks me up off the floor.

I don't have the energy to fight back so I moan a pathetic protest as he puts me over his shoulder.

"Stop moaning or people will talk."

I'm carried down to the 4th Floor and deposited on a soft bed.

"Why am I here?" I sigh.

Finnick sits down next to me with a worried look on his face.

"Lalaney called me. She didn't know where you were."

"Blight did," I say blankly. "He's picked me up from there before. He always knows more than he tells people."

"She thought you might do something stupid…"he continues. "She said you had that look in your eyes that reminded her of Annie…"

"Oh…" I don't know what else to say. Would I have done something 'stupid'? I know I looked over that balcony for a long time, feeling the wind on my face. Did I think about falling? I probably wouldn't die if I did, there has to be something at work there that would prevent Tributes taking the easy way out. Knowing my luck I'd probably just end up completely paralysed but still very much alive.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"I'll go let her know I'm ok."

With a firm hand Finnick gives me a shove to the chest and pushes me back down onto the bed.

"Are you? Because I wouldn't believe you."

"I'm alright! I just got a bit shaken and started thinking…about…" My mouth twitches down and my throat grows an uncomfortable lump. "…things."

"Meaning?"

I grit my teeth and shrug.

"Don't do that," he says in a low voice.

"Do what?"

"Don't shrug it away Johanna. I was _really_ worried about you."

"Sorry," I mumble. I feel like I'm being told off at school, except at school I didn't care. Now I feel shamed and guilty.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice soft again.

I shake my head.

"Sorry I meant, do you want to talk now or later? Because we are going to have to talk about this."

I let out a guttural groan and roll onto my side, away from his probing eyes.

As uncomfortable as his questions are, I feel much better in here than I did up on that roof. I felt dark and lonely and prickly, like the poison from Merade's berries was creeping slowly through my veins towards my heart. At least here it's warm and the bed is soft.

"What were you doing up there?" Finnick enquires again.

"Contemplating mortality," I reply flatly.

"Is that what they do on a Saturday night in District 7? In District 4 we drink homemade brew on the beach, but whatever floats your boat."

I don't answer so he presses on.

"The first time, you always have too much and have to dodge the Peacekeepers on the way home. If they catch you it's five lashes. Do they lash people in District 7?"

I shrug.

"Not that I've seen," and I tell him about the 'Wanted' posters that Head Peacekeeper Ostorius put up and everyone later defaced.

"So why did Blight mention that you were unsure about going back?"

So Blight _was_ around when Lalaney called Finnick. Why didn't he say that I might be up on the roof? Had he forgotten about the time he'd found me up there after Abe had pissed me off?

"I was just worried about Joey and Mother, it's fine."

Finnick lays down beside me and makes a sympathetic noise before clamping his hands on my shoulders.

I wince as he tries his 'relaxing' massage. I flail my arms out in an attempt to shrug him off but accidentally elbow him in the gut.

"Oof!" he groans. "Feel better after that unwarranted display of aggression?"

I roll onto my back and sigh.

"A little."

He props his head up on a hand.

"Do you want to stay here tonight? I can call Lalaney."

Finally I nod.

"If that's ok?"

"Of course, just give me a minute."

He leaves to make the call and I slip out of my clothes and slip under the bedclothes. The clock next to Finnick's bed reads 10pm. It was just after three, I think, when I went up to the roof. I _was _out there for a while. No wonder they were all so worried about me.

I'm starting to feel a little more sympathy for Annie Cresta. It was like a floodgate. Once I started the memories, they wouldn't stop. The darkness just pulled me in and down and down until nearly seven hours had passed. I can't imagine living that way for four years. I can't let this happen again. I don't know what might have happened if Finnick hadn't arrived to bring me inside. Would I have eventually jumped or done something else stupid? Could I go again? A few tears squeeze out and roll down the side of my face into my hairline as I look up at the ceiling. I push the heel of my palms into my eye sockets to try to stop it. It doesn't work so I roll and bury my face into the pillows, trying hard to squash them back in.

When Finnick comes back, my face is wet and my eyes feel puffy.

I finally notice his clothes.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

He has on a white shirt with a thin black tie done up around the collar. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and the shirt remains untucked from his smart black pants. It's a far cry from his usual plain t-shirt and long shorts combo.

"I…er…I'm supposed to be on a 'date'"

I gasp and sit bolt upright.

"Then go, go!"

"It's ok, it's fine." He shrugs and loosens his tie.

"No it isn't! What are you doing here? You'll be in so much trouble if you don't go!" I exclaim.

"I'm already an hour late Mason, it took me longer than it should have to think about looking for you out on that stupid balcony. It's fine, she's a regular, I've rescheduled to tomorrow night."

"But…but what if Snow finds out! Finnola, your mother! How can you be so…cool about this?!" I'm almost hyperventilating now from the alarm. I'm not sure how long I can stand these quick changes from exhaustion to blind panic.

"Mason," he takes my hands and holds my wrists between his thumb and index finger. "Just chill out. Everything's ok, I called the restaurant as soon as Lalaney called me and told my 'date' I was sick. She was very worried about me, offered to bring round some chicken soup. My stylist is going to help make me look pale tomorrow and she can fuss over me all night if she wants."

I eye up Finnick's natural District 4 tan and muse that it'll take a lot of that chalky powder to make him look pale. He unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor, joining me under the covers, after brushing down the mattress of course.

"How come your 'dates' are nice?" I ask.

I tuck myself under his arm and we lay back with my head on his shoulder.

"Most of mine would go running straight to Snow asking for their money back if I didn't turn up," I add.

"Yeah but I'm nice to my 'dates'."

I consider this.

"That's fair. But I don't think mine expect me to wine and dine them. I mean there is wine…I make sure of that."

He leans over and switches off the lights. We are plunged into pitch black. Usually this means it's time to go to sleep but Finnick's chest rises sharply as he takes in a deep breath.

"Are you ready to talk about why you were on the roof?"

I think about shrugging but then realise that it's dark and he wouldn't be able to see it. Nice play Odair.

"I don't know, I go up there sometimes. It's fresh up there, you know above everything," I mumble. I don't want to admit to him that I was forcing myself to think about his dead nephew, that I was emotionally self-harming.

"You wanna know how I finally worked out where you'd be?"

"Sure."

"The night before the start of the 71st Annual Hunger Games I went to check up on my nephew, my Tribute. It was late and he'd come back from the Interview shaking. I went to make sure he was getting some sleep or at least thinking about it. Instead his bed was empty. I'm ashamed to say my first thought was that he'd tried to run away. I should have known better. Of course he wouldn't run away, not Red, who was almost ineligible but couldn't stand to see that poor cripple boy limping up to the stage. I overheard someone in the foyer mention a roof terrace while I was searching for him and went up there. He was there alright, I saw him as soon as those elevator doors opened. He was with the weepy wisp of a girl with hair down to her waist. She fell off her chariot during the Tribute Parade, I've never seen such a ridiculous move. I thought he was offering to help her but as I stood in the doorway watching them I saw something different about her. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears and her eyes were shining with…I don't know, humour maybe, certainly not fear. They were smiling at each other. Then my nephew takes this strange enigma into his arms and holds her. I'm half expecting her to sink a knife straight into his back but she doesn't. She hangs there, unsure and says…"

"'If you're trying to squeeze me to death now I think it's considered cheating'," I fill in for him. My right hand is balled up and my knuckles are pressed against my own lips.

"Like she's afraid that he's the one with the knife. Like perhaps the terrified little girl act wasn't quite the act she thought it was. I watch them cling to each other and remember the way Annie hung onto me the morning before she went in. Except this time I knew one of them would have to die."

This time I give Finnick his line, "'Hate to interrupt…I hope you weren't trying to seduce my Tribute.'" I whisper.

"Why were you up there tonight Johanna?" he whispers back.

"I just went to get some fresh air after that girl that everyone said was like me died. Then I started thinking about everyone that's died because of me, about my Tributes and Red. Then I…I don't know… I can't…"

In the darkness an image crosses my eyes. It's the street below the Training Tower, only this time there's no fence in the way. Did I really climb over it? I can feel the cold metal still in my hands but behind me. Wind in my face. A foot dangling in thin air. Did this really happen? Then I see Joey's face. I see his pink waving hand from my Reaping and I remember how desperately I wanted to get back to see him again. I must've heaved myself back over onto safer ground and just sat there, as far from the edge as I could get, with my arms wrapped around my legs until Finnick found me.

"I think…I think I might have thought about…" I can't say it. The tears are falling freely now. It's dark, no one can see me, but Finnick can probably hear my pathetic sniffing because he holds me tighter. His lips find my cheek in the shadows and he takes a salty kiss from it.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway," he tells me softly. "The force field would have just pinged you back up again, most likely breaking your legs, or a couple of ribs but that's it."

"How do you know?" I wipe my face with the bed sheet.

"We've all been on that ledge Jo." His voice sounds dark and serious, so unlike what I'm used to from him. "As long as you never go back to it. Promise me, because I don't know what I'd do without you here."

"I promise," I murmur, clinging onto him like a physical anchor to the here and now.

I can think about the dead all I like as long as I come back to the people of today.


	64. The Big Finale

**Chapter Sixty-Four- The Big Finale**

In the morning I eat breakfast with the District 4 Victors. Mags tries to teach me about table manners when I stretch past Finnick for a pastry, nearly knocking over his orange juice. The lesson comes to an abrupt end when Mags pours hot chocolate over her own pastry and then slurps it straight out of the bowl. Finnick chokes with laughter and I bang him on the back with two hands.

When my Escort comes to find me she happens across Finnick chasing me around the table for revenge while Mags claps and laughs at us. Sandy is sitting with her arms folded, looking moody at the end of the table.

Mags rushes up to Lalaney with a mug of hot chocolate and a piece of green-tinged District 4 bread.

"Aw thanks Mags, I've missed this stuff!" She tears off the end of the little loaf and pops it into her mouth. "I've come to check on our little runaway," she lisps, a few crumbs slipping from between her lips.

"I'm fine," I whine. If my little breakdown means that I'm going to be checked on every time I leave the suite then I can feel another one scheduling itself for very soon.

"Is she?" Lalaney looks past me to check with the others.

"That's a matter of opinion," mumbles Sandy, scowling.

Finnick casts her a silencing look while Mags encases my hand in both of hers and presses it to her cheek. I think this means she hopes I'm okay.

"Are you ready to go home?" asks my Escort.

"Why? Is the game over?" I can't help the hint of hope in my voice.

"Oh...no, I meant back to our floor..." Lalaney looks to her feet uneasily.

Whoops.

"I don't need you to personally escort me upstairs," I tell her.

"It's kind of my job." She avoids my eyes.

"I can bring her up later if you want?" Finnick offers.

"I don't need anyone to 'bring me up '!" I exclaim, folding my arms in front of me. "It's bad enough that I have to be in this stupid city as it is, followed everywhere I go out there, I don't need to be followed around in here too!"

"Well we're just making sure you're ok, that you get to where you're supposed to be going," replies Finnick.

"Yeah," agrees Lalaney. "We don't want to lose you."

"Lose me?" I glare at Finnick. "Did you say something?"

"She was worried about you, I had to tell her."

"No you didn't! No you didn't!"

Lalaney is spewing high-pitched uncomfortable excuses and Finnick is trying to talk over her. Somewhere a phone is ringing too.

Mags tugs on Finnick's arm, looking distressed while Sandy is sitting back and looking as though she is thoroughly enjoying the entire situation.

I'm not listening to either of them. The piercing ring is persisting. Why doesn't someone answer it?! They're too busy trying to talk their way out of the fact that they've been discussing my behaviour behind my back.

I stomp past them, grab the receiver and bark a greeting into it.

"_Hello_," comes a quiet voice. She sounds confused. "_Who is this?"_

"Johanna," I frown, who doesn't know my voice?

"_Oh…umm hi…it's Annie…"_

"Oh hi Annie."

Finnick takes a step towards the phone, a worried crease forming on his otherwise unblemished face. I look him right in the eye as I ask,

"How are you Annie?"

"_Um…fine thank you. How are you?"_

"Oh not too bad, I almost tried to kill myself last night and Finnick and Lalaney are arguing about whose responsibility it is to make sure I get on the elevator without throwing myself down the shaft. What have you been up to?"

Lalaney buries her face into her hands and Finnick slaps his forehead.

On the other end of the phone I hear Annie give a quiet giggle.

"_They're both there right now aren't they?"_

"Yup."

"_I'm afraid that's probably my fault and I'm afraid they're not going to stop stressing about where you are or how you're feeling from now on."_

"Oh great." I roll my eyes and Finnick is immediately in front of me.

"Give me the phone," he hisses.

I shake my head.

"Give me the phone!" He reaches out for it but I crouch down and curl up so he can't get at the receiver.

"Go away, I'm talking to your _girlfriend_. Annie are you still there?"

"Right, give it to me now!" He bundles on top of me, his hands scrabbling under my body to try and get a grip of the thin, smooth, phone.

"Ow! Ow! You're pinching me!" I holler.

"Then give me the phone!"

"Annie? Ow! Get off! Annie, I might have to go now. It was lovely talking to you. If you want to call me back I can give you the number for the 7th Floor extension, it's the same as this one but instead of 334 it's 3—"

"I will throw you down the elevator shaft myself," Finnick growls making a last ditch lunge. We crash into a unit of shelves but he emerges victorious, clutching his spoils.

A broken glass has torn a gash down his forearm and the corner of a shelf connected pretty sharply with my cheekbone just under my eye. I'll have a smashing bruise there later.

"Johanna!" Lalaney gasps and turns to an Avox. "Can you get some ice for her." She grabs a napkin and tries to wrap it around Finnick's arm. He shrugs her off and mouths that he's ok.

The Avox thrusts a cold square of material at me. I duck out of the way instinctively and almost knock the back of my head on the very same shelf. The Avox stands back and holds it out for me to apply to myself.

"Come on, we've got to go back," Lalaney beckons me like a small child.

"Why?" I groan.

"Because."

"That's not an answer!"

"Because I've asked you too and because you've already wasted time winding up your brother," she gestures at Finnick. "If we're going to play these silly games then I'm going to have to be your Mother and tell you that I'm fed up now and we need you upstairs."

"But why?!"

"There's a film crew upstairs..."

"What?!" I know I sound like a petulant child but I'm a pathetic excuse away from stamping my foot.

"They want to get your reaction to the death of the District 5 girl, I think...because you were supporting her in the last propo. They are not going to be happy when they see your face!"

"If they say anything I'll just tell them to f-"

Mags puts her hands over her ears and hums loudly. I can't help but laugh at her and it dispels my anger somewhat.

"Look you've upset Grandma," Lalaney chuckles. "Let's go."

I reluctantly relent and slope behind her towards the door.

Finnick has passed the phone to Mags and comes to see us out. He hugs Lalaney smartly before she goes to summon the elevator. After he and I break apart I mutter,

"Sorry about your arm."

"Sorry about your eye," he returns.

"Why didn't you want me to talk to her?"

He shuffles uncomfortably.

"You could have said anything to her."

"Like what?"

"Like that you slept in my bed last night?"

"Doesn't she know?" I can't imagine Finnick keeping anything from his beloved.

"She knows about the 'dates'. She knows that sex and kisses are not exactly exclusive to our relationship but the way I feel about her is, my love is. I love you too but I love you both in different ways, you know that. I think she knows that but I don't want you to muddy the waters by telling her that we sleep together sometimes."

"Just sleeping though," I point out. "But I guess it's the intimacy right?"

He nods as Lalaney calls me again. I mime buttoning my lips together before leaning on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

The film crew fuss and moan about my rapidly darkening eye while I sit there with a different rapidly darkening look on my face.

About half an hour after they've left, there's a gossip reel discussing the potential causes of my injury.

My favourite is the one that a silver haired, feline-eyed woman suggests:

"I'm just saying that it might have something to do with Cashmere's latest honey. I'm pretty sure Bartholomew Nelson used to see Johanna."

Yeah like I'd pick a fight with Cashmere over a man who paid to have lunch with me one time. Although I _would_ love an excuse to take her on.

"We all know Johanna can be scrappy, and her and Cashmere are frenenemies."

"What's 'frenenemies'" I ask Lalaney who's been to find some Avoxes to tidy up the mess the film crew left behind.

"It's like a friend that's also an enemy," she tells me without looking up from her handheld gadget.

"Urgh! Wrong!" I heckle the 'experts' on the television. "One day I'm going to go on this show and press a buzzer every time they talk absolute crap."

"Apparently the two of them have really good banter down in The Hub when both sets of Tributes are in play," the silver woman continues.

"BUZZ!"

An orange skinned man with eerie pointed teeth weighs in.

"Well speaking of things that go on down in The Hub that we don't get to see, I've heard that Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason have been going down there to try and secure alliances for next years Game already."

"BUZZ!"

"Don't forget Osirus," the pale, blue haired host of the show interjects. "Next year is 75 years since the rebellion and will be a Quarter Quell, which means the rules could be very different. Remember the last Quarter Quell, well I don't I'm too young, but twice the amount of Tributes went into the arena."

Osirus must be considerably older than the other panellists because he nods knowledgably.

"Yes and in the first, the Districts had to choose their own Tributes, so the rule change next year could prove very interesting indeed."

"What do you think the twist could be next year?" I turn back to my escort.

"I don't know, haven't you got friends in high places?" Sure, if you count the Head Gamemaker as a friend.

"They don't know either," I moan.

"It's a shame that this year wasn't a Quarter Quell, what with the rule change that's occurred already." Lalaney sits down next to me, still looking at her electronic thing.

"And District 12 won the last one," I add. "What are you looking at on that thing?"

"My daughter's recital was last night, my husband has sent me a recording he made of it. I couldn't be there because I was looking for you."

Guilt. Oppressive, crushing guilt.

"Oh Lalaney I'm so sorry. I didn't—"

She puts a hand on my arm and silences me with a look.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it all here." She shakes the gadget.

"Sorry to interrupt you Venetia," says the host, touching her ear like the Peacekeepers do. "But I'm afraid we've got to merge with the 74th Annual Hunger Games coverage. It seems we're going to be watching the Big Finale. Claudius, over to you."

The channels merge and Claudius Templesmith is sat behind his desk, a couple of District 7-made sheets of paper in his podgy hand. He shuffles them and coughs.

"Greetings Panem, we are live on all broadcasting channels."

Lalaney and I share a look. 'The Big Finale'.

"If you have just joined us, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark from District 12 are travelling to the Cornucopia to confront Cato Porcius of District 2. Little do they know that Cato is deep in the forest nearly a kilometre away from them. Let's turn him around shall we?"

We see a close up of Cato patrolling the woods. He's looking almost manic, stabbing his spear into every bush big enough to hide a person. He's muttering to himself. Every so often we catch a few solitary words: Clove, Nothing, Cheated, Cheated, Cheated.

His head snaps to one side at the smallest sound. He stalks towards it, slicing down anything in the way.

"I'm coming for you Katniss," he growls.

"He's gone mad," I mutter to myself.

"Is that good or bad?" Lalaney must have overheard me.

"Depends. He could make a mistake, especially as Katniss and Peeta are looking for him now."

Cato sources the sound he's been following and slows down.

"What do we have here?" he hums.

He uses his spear to push back the branches of a particularly dense shrub. He peers inside.

"Listen," I whisper.

"What?"

It's silent. Nothing but the sound of Cato's own raspy breath.

"No birds."

Cato seems to realise this as well and backs up slowly, bracing his spear across his body.

The shrub trembles and a terrifying sound rumbles through the trees. A low, vicious snarl.

"The Big Finale," I repeat.

A mutt bursts from the bush, or was it the bush to start with? It looks like a wolf but there's something off about it, something not right.

It bounds up to Cato and stands back on its hind legs, saliva dripping from its fangs.

He falters, doesn't run right away.

"What's the matter with him?! Run!" Lalaney cries, balling her hands into fists.

"There's something about the mutt."

It's shorter than Cato, even up on its back legs and it's dark brown glossy fur ripples in the slight breeze.

Cato almost leans forwards to touch it.

"Clove?" he gulps.

We see a close-up of a dark grey collar that I hadn't noticed around the mutt's throat. It almost looks like it's been chiselled out of a single piece of stone. Right in the centre of the collar is carved a number 2.

"Is that…" I start, in horror.

"It can't be."

The muttation is modelled (I hope) on Cato's District partner.

It (or she) snarls again at him and then turns away from him.

He finally starts to move in the opposite direction. Thankfully he breaks into a run less than a second before Clove-Wolf is joined by an entire pack. Clove-Wolf drops back onto all fours and the pack springs after him. One enormous jet black wolf bearing a straw number 11 collar even licks its lips.

Cato barrels through the forest, bouncing over fallen logs, dodging and weaving to try and throw off the pack.

One spry little wolf leaps ahead, rolling as it hits the floor. It reminds me of Hetty's backwards flips on the train to the C…

"Oh no."

Dirty blonde fur, tiny brown flecks on its muzzle almost like freckles.

Lalaney grabs my hand a similar thing occurring to her as well.

"Are they there? Hetty and Hemlock?"

There's a foul taste in my mouth.

"No, no." I can't bear it.

"It's her isn't it!" Lalaney screeches.

The weaved vine collar reads 7. Its eyes. Its eyes.

Lalaney clamps a hand to her mouth and dashes towards one of the ensuite bathrooms. I hear her retching up whatever her last meal was.

Hetty-Wolf jumps again and lands heavily on top of Cato. Its long, frightening claws should have ripped right through his back, dragging half his skin with them but they don't. They slide right off him. He buckles under the extra weight but flings Hetty-Wolf away. He keeps moving but pivots, brandishing his spear.

Hetty-Wolf tries again, this time snapping its jaws instead of wielding just its enormous claws alone.

Cato's spear goes straight through its chin and up out of its upper jaw. Rather than try to wrench his weapon back, he forfeits it and keeps running. The rest of the pack bound over Hetty-Wolf's whimpering form.

Covering the distance to the Cornucopia takes him just over five minutes. He bursts onto the plain, the golden horn in his sight. He knows the Clove-Wolf is shorter than him, he must mean to climb the horn and hope none of the others are as sprightly as Hetty-Wolf.

Katniss and Peeta have jumped up at the sight of him, weapons in hand.

The Girl on Fire shoots an arrow directly at Cato's chest but it bounces off, just like the mutts claws. He must be wearing the armour that was in his District 2 bag at the feast. He storms straight past the lovers, leaving them gaping at each other confused.

Then Katniss sees the pack. Without a second thought, she leaves her injured partner metres behind her as she follows Cato. Poor Peeta, so easily forgotten and sacrificed.

He hobbles after her as fast as his stiff legs can go.

Eventually just as she reaches the Cornucopia, which Cato is now scaling, Katniss realises her mistake and turns to fire an arrow at the mutt snapping at Peeta's heels.

"Go Katniss, go!" he yells at her, pushing his hands out as though he is trying to boost her up himself.

She shimmies straight up, no mean feat considering the day's heat that the metal is probably holding.

"What's going on?" Lalaney appears, pale and weak. She slithers back into her seat.

I leave out the bit about Hetty-Wolf's gruesome demise and fill her in.

In the meantime Katniss manages to heave Peeta up to the safety of the Cornucopia.

Cato bends over, coughing. He spits up over the side after his exertion and holds his ribs. He burbles something at Katniss and Peeta.

"What?" Katniss demands.

"He said 'Can they climb it?'!" Peeta translates for her and us.

Before she can answer, a blonde mutt jumps and hangs off the side of the horn, not three inches from Katniss. Something connects in her mind and she gasps. Panicking, she lets an arrow go into its throat even though it was already on its way down.

"Katniss?" Peeta frowns at her reaction.

"It's her!"

"Who?"

She's realised what we already have. They're the Tributes…

Peeta gives her a shake.

"What is it Katniss?"

"It's them. It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and…all of the other Tributes."

"What did they do to them? You don't think…those could be their real eyes?"

Lalaney groans and makes a break for the toilet bowl again. That would be a new low for the Capitol. They can't have dug out the eyes of the Tributes and put them in the mutts can they? No, it's disgusting. Not even the Capitol would violate corpses like that. Would they? Hetty shares her eyes with her identical twin and that's it. They wouldn't. Would they?

Bile rises in my throat. I have to leave the television.

"Are you ok?"

In her haste Lalaney has used my bathroom. I stand in the doorway and fold my arms.

"Yeah, yeah," she pants. Her wig has become dishevelled and for the first time I see a glimpse of her natural hair colour. It's almost the same shade of brown as mine, but with specks of grey starting at the roots.

"Do you need anything? Water?"

"Here, take this." She pulls the wig off completely and throws it at me. "I don't know why I bother. It's hot, itchy and I'm pretty sure it's pulling out my hair."

"Then why do you bother? I always thought you really did have purple hair." I toss it over in my hands, running my fingers through its curls.

"To fit in I guess. I also like being able to take it off at home and be myself again." She rinses her mouth out and then shakily gets to her feet. "I think I'm alright now," and promptly stumbles.

I hurry forward to support her.

"Maybe we should turn off the television."

"No!" she says quickly. "It's the Big Finale, we have to watch. Peeta and Katniss have to win."

"And if we don't watch, they might not?"

She attempts a withering look, but she looks so pathetic that it doesn't really have the right effect.

"Don't laugh at me," she pouts.

I purse my lips to crush the smile.

When we make it back to the living area, Cato has Peeta in a headlock. The two of them are teetering on the edge of the Cornucopia, the hounds gathered below.

Peeta's poor leg has gained another injury somehow and is gushing blood. He and Katniss share some sort of signal to each other, a look or a marking because the smile slides off Cato's face a second before Katniss's arrow pierces his hand. He releases Peeta instinctively and Peeta lurches backwards, either on purpose or as a result of being let go so suddenly. Both of them freeze in that sickening second where it could go either way, up or down.

Katniss grabs Peeta and he goes up. Cato goes down.

"That's it…" Lalaney says. "They've won."

"Not yet. Cato still has that armour and he's still fighting."

Yes he is. And he does for hours.

Lalaney and I go down to The Pit for dinner. It ends up as a liquid dinner as neither of us feel up to solids. We meet Blight, Chaff and a woman at the bar. Chaff introduces her as,

"Err…from District 6."

When we drag Blight back upstairs to bed Cato is still fighting, and Peeta is still bleeding. Katniss is trying to keep him awake.

"_Red! Don't go to sleep!" _I see myself pressing a sodden jacket against his wound and he starts awake again with a groan.

"Ow!"

"I said don't fall asleep! If you sleep you might not wake up."

Katniss echoes most of my words. I hope hers are more effective than mine were.

I help Blight to his room and then excuse myself. I'm not going through that flashback again. If Peeta dies in the night then I don't want to see it happen.

This Big Finale is taking a lot longer than I think anyone planned for and I've got a feeling it's still not going to go the Capitol's way.


	65. Berries

**Chapter Sixty-Five- Berries**

Hetty and Hemlock, as well as Hetty-Wolf and Hemlock-Wolf, haunt my dreams. They change freely between their two forms and then pin me down to gouge out my eyes to make a Johanna-Wolf to join them.

At three in the morning, eyes streaming from imagined pain, I decide to go for a drink from Blight's favourite cabinet in hopes that it'll make me a little sleepier. It doesn't. I have to cross the living area to get to the alcohol and the television hasn't turned off. Cato is still fighting off the mutts. He must've had another weapon on his person somewhere because there's the distinctive sound of metal on metal when he hits the Cornucopia at the end of each swipe. The clanging rings through my next set of dreams.

I sleep so badly it feels like a miracle when the sun rises. I see it come up through bleary eyes. I feel sick from exhaustion…or possibly the shot of pink liquor I had. I roll out of bed and crawl to the bathroom, hoping a shower will sort me out.

It doesn't.

Perhaps something to eat will fix my nausea.

It doesn't.

I sit there nibbling dry bread while the television continues to play away to itself.

A knock on the door precedes the delivery of my first red envelope for a few days. Mr G. Montague's appetite has obviously been stirred by the night's bloodfest.

This thought does not sooth my malady either.

I wonder if Katniss and Peeta's special relationship will save Katniss from these red envelopes. Will Peeta have to watch her paint on some make-up to hide her nervous blush the first time? Will he help her on with her coat to protect her from the early morning chill when she walks home dolled up like a woman ten years older than she really is?

Then will she wait anxiously for Peeta to come back from some Capitol woman's bed, smelling of overpowering, expensive perfume?

They could be the new Capitol favourites. Perhaps Finnick and I, and Cashmere, Gloss and any others for that matter, will be forgotten and left alone. It sounds awful but this young, mildly attractive couple could be my ticket out of this particular duty.

The sun is rising in the arena. In the dim light Cato is more visible. Some of his armour has ripped away and now his left arm, a bloody stump, is hanging loosely by his side, a couple of the mutts are chasing its floppy movements like it's a tantalising chew-toy. One of his ears has gone, there's a gash down his right eye and his top lip has been sliced into a permanent sneer. He's moaning something but the blood pouring down his face from various wounds bubbles at what remains of his mouth.

Suddenly I think that perhaps meeting G. Montague won't be so bad.

"I think he's closer now." Peeta whispers. "Katniss, can you shoot him?"

It's the kindest thing to do. He's been fighting for hours. It's one arrow and then they've won, they're out.

"My last arrow's in your tourniquet," Katniss replies. She must have fashioned him one last night and used the arrow to tighten it. Releasing it could mean Peeta losing even more blood. He won't last long if she misses her target.

Peeta starts to unzip the jacket that they have been sharing.

"Make it count."

She shimmies along the smooth surface, bow in hand. Her face freezes in horror when she sees the state of her foe.

We catch one moaned word from Cato Porcius from District 2 before she releases her last arrow into his skull,

"Please."

He falls limp, the fight ended.

"Did you get him?" Peeta asks as he helps Katniss back up.

The cannon shot rings around the Cornucopia clearing.

A mass of blankets on the couch stirs at the noise.

"What's happening? Have I missed it?" Lalaney croaks.

"Have you been there all night?" I take another delicate sip of my sugary coffee.

"Yeah, didn't want to miss anything," she says. "Nothing happened though. Saw you get your drink. Do you feel as bad as you look?"

"Pretty much. Cato's dead by the way."

"The mutts?"

"No, Katniss put him out of his misery."

Lalaney turns back to the screen expectantly.

The mutts have disappeared into some Gamemaker-made hole and Katniss and Peeta have made their way over to the lake.

"Where's the chorus of trumpets?" I say around my mouthful of buttery breakfast.

"That's what I was wondering," says Lalaney. "And it looks like that's what they're wondering too."

"What are they waiting for?" Peeta looks bad. He's pale and is hunched over slightly. I guess he's missing his tourniquet.

"I don't know," Katniss replies.

Claudius's voice echoes through into the arena.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

"One winner?" Lalaney gapes.

"Utter assholes," I curse and spout a few more explicit, but perfectly true, opinions of the Gamemakers.

Peeta flings his knife into the lake in protest and Katniss…aims her bow at his chest.

"What is she doing?!" my escort gasps.

She immediately realises her instinctive move and drops her weapons quickly.

Peeta crouches down and thrusts the bow back into her hands along with a previously discarded arrow. "No. Do it," he says softly.

They have a tedious argument about who will kill who. It's all too melodramatic for me. Peeta rips off his bandage intent on bleeding to death and Katniss drops to her knees pressing it back on, begging him to want to live.

Lalaney sobs. Please. It's the name of the game, they knew this was going to happen. Sure it was cruel of the Capitol to pretend that they would both escape, but when have the Capitol ever been _nice. _

If it were up to me I'd rather Peeta won. If one of them has to be a Victor that I'm going to have to see every year until I get too old or too sick or too…dead, then I'd rather it be the kind, empathic blonde boy than…well Katniss, even if she's likely to share my Capitol load.

"Listen," Peeta pulls her to her feet again. "We both know they have to have a Victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me."

Something clicks in Katniss's mind. A dark, frightening look crosses her face. That look means trouble. I want to climb through the screen and scream a warning at her.

She reaches into a pouch that she'd had tied to her person. Peeta knows what's inside the pouch and exactly what she's about to do.

"No, I won't let you." He has a hand sealing her fist together, but his voice is calm, matter-of-fact.

"Trust me," she says, easing away his fingers. She opens the pouch and pours out the handful of poisonous berries that had killed Merade, half into Peeta's hand and half into her own. "On the count of three?"

Peeta drops one gentle kiss to her lips.

"The count of three," he agrees.

They stand back-to-back, hands tightly entwined. We can see their white knuckles as they hold on to each other with a desperate ferocity.

"One."

"Two."

Another sob from the huddle of blankets on the sofa.

"Three!"

They simultaneously lift their dark red stained hands to their mouths. We see a close up of the berries passing Katniss's lips. No faking.

"Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you- the tributes of District 12!"

They both spit out the berries violently and wash out their mouths in the lake as the trumpets roar in their ears.

The booming sound of the celebrating crowd cuts alarmingly through the natural ambience of the arena. I remember the dazed feeling I felt when I heard it, so dreamlike I could barely believe it was happening.

Peeta and Katniss are embracing.

"Its over," Lalaney sighs.

"Only until next year," I reply bitterly. "And we've still got the highlights to watch remember?"

The hovercraft appears in the sky to collect its unusual double Victor haul.

"I expect we'll be hearing from Gaia soon about your outfit for the crowning."

I roll my eyes.

"Urgh! I don't know why she bothers. It'll only be seen if Haymitch shuffles past me on his way in. They only care about the winning Mentor, all the balcony cameras will be on him."

"Yes but she wants to show you off."

"No she doesn't. She wants to show herself off and she's not even any good at it. I swear if next years Tributes are trees again then I think I may beat her to death with a fake branch."

The phone rings.

"No prizes for guessing who that is," I mutter.

It turns out that it _is_ Gaia and she needs me to...

"Steer clear of bread for the next few days?!" I repeat aghast.

"Yes," Lalaney nods, holding her index finger over the microphone in the receiver as she relays Gaia's message to me. "She says it bloats you and there'll be no room for manoeuvre in the dress she's got for you."

"Give me the phone," I hiss quietly through gritted teeth.

"I don't want to," Lalaney hesitates nervously.

"Does she know that I come from a place where properly made bread is a luxury? People are starving on the streets..."

Lalaney backs away from me, holding the phone behind her as my momentum builds.

"...I fight through the most horrendous ordeal, kill seven people and then get pimped out to the Capitol. The only positive to it all is that I don't need to worry about starving anymore and _then_ some trumped up old tart tells me NOT TO EAT IN CASE IT MAKES ME TOO FAT TO FIT INTO A DRESS!"

Lalaney puts the phone to her ear and babbles,

"Ok well things to do Gaia, people to see. See you in a few days then! No Johanna's not here. Buh-Bye!" and slams the receiver back into its base before I can even get across to her.

"I'll just say it to her face in a 'few days'," I tell her sharply, ladling more butter onto an enormously thick slice of bread. "And if the dress doesn't fit then I'll just go naked, see how she likes that!"

"I'm not so sure Katniss and Peeta will like you upstaging them by doing a striptease in front of the entire nation," Lalaney raises an eyebrow.

"Don't care." I savage the bread to make my point. "Peeta looks like he might enjoy it anyway. Katniss balked at the idea of taking off his undershorts in that stream. I can't imagine he'll be getting very far with her anytime soon. It'll be a nice treat for him before the cold year ahead in District 12."

Lalaney purses her lips.

"You can be quite a bitch when you want to be can't you?"

"Are you really just realising this fact?"


	66. A Lost Girl In A Yellow Dress

**Chapter Sixty-Six- A Lost Girl In A Yellow Dress**

G. Montague is a bore from the high-rise offices of the Capitol. He spends the majority of our meeting at a nearby bar staring at my chest, and then spends the majority of the night groping it. I walk back to my suite with my arms folded.

Byte is coming home at the same time as me. We share a knowing look and his eyes look over the bruise on my face.

"Is that…?" he starts.

I quickly shake my head.

"No, no don't worry. Finnick tried to make me do something I didn't want to do."

"Finnick did that to you?!" He sounds alarmed.

"No," I laugh, the wine from earlier making me a little giggly. "He'd never be able to lay a fist of fives on me. A shelving unit did this to me while I was trying to avoid doing what he wanted me to."

The elevator arrives and a Prep Team exit.

"They're working late," I comment checking the enormous clock in the foyer before we step in. "It's nearly three am!"

Just before the doors close, a hand shoots out to stop them.

Cashmere.

She looks like she's had a rough night too. Her pale pink lipstick has smudged down to her chin. It's obvious that she's tried to wipe it off but there's still a slick of shine giving her away. Her blonde curls have been snagged out of the complicated up-do she had fashioned and there's a bruise on her inner wrist shaped like four controlling fingers.

She casts her green eyes over Byte and I once and then turns away to face the closing doors.

"Tough gig?" I ask her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies, turning her nose up.

"Ok sure." I pull a face at Byte. "You were probably at an exclusive party, like we were. How many people were at your party Byte?"

His eyes hit the floor. He clearly doesn't want to get involved.

"Cos I was the only guest at mine. Just me and one sad, disgusting pervert." I continue. "You've got one hell of a bruise there Cash, party a little hard?"

Cashmere lets out one long irritated breath before turning on me. She grabs my throat with one hand of perfectly manicured, baby pink nails.

"Give me a reason to blacken that other eye," she murmurs in a low but intimidating voice. "Let's get this straight _Jo_, this…" she gestures between the three of us. "…does not make us friends. This revolting, sordid thing that we have in common is _not_ something we are going to chat about over afternoon tea. You want to smile together in pictures so everyone thinks we're besties then fine, but I do not ever want to hear your gritty little voice asking me how my 'gig' has been."

"Geez Cash." I slur a little. "You should try having a drink, loosen up."

She rolls her eyes, releases me, and turns back to the door muttering,

"Drunken fool."

The door pings open at the 1st Floor but before she can exit, I grab her bruised arm and pull her back to me.

She winces at the pain as I hold her tighter.

I place my lips next to her ear and whisper.

"Give me a reason to bury my axe in your chest Cashmere. Don't ever threaten me again and I'd've thought by now you'd've learnt not to underestimate me either."

I let her go and give her a tiny shove out of the doors. They close quickly on her outraged face.

Byte clears his throat awkwardly. We do not talk again until the elevator arrives at the 3rd Floor and even then it's a quick 'good night'.

So goes the next couple of days: a red envelope in the morning, a lunch or dinner 'date' then a early morning return to the Training Center. Oh and I start to pack for home.

When the broadcast goes out on the gossip channels that Katniss and Peeta are up and about, my Prep Team arrive to make sure I'm buffed and polished just in case I make it onto the live footage of the Highlights or Interview. They're positively buzzing with excitement to see Katniss and Peeta together again.

"They're keeping them apart according to my friend Xavier, he's on Peeta's Prep Team," Oberon exclaims. "How lucky is he?!"

"Yeah cos you guys really got a rough deal with me," I snap. "I sat there not saying anything while you borderline abused me!"

"Oh you were awfully weepy dear," the one the others call 'V' comments.

"No I wasn't! You just thought I was!" I growl. "Ow! Watch it back there!" The third one, the one with no name, is trying to get a comb through my hair.

"Now," V continues. "Are we going to be able to put some nail polish on you or are you just going to pick it off as usual?"

"I couldn't say," I sneer.

"We could strap her hands to the chair?" The-One-With-No-Name says brightly.

I summon my darkest look and fling it in her direction.

"I wish I worked for District 12," I hear her murmur.

"I wish you did too," I retort.

The three of them work in a huff for the rest of the day. I'm pretty lucky that they're so professional, the amount of times I've pissed them off over the years, they could so easily have completely ruined my appearance at every public event.

Gaia arrives with my dress the next day, the day of the Highlights. Sure enough it's a special shade of blue and tighter than some of the Capitol's finest restraining gear I'm sure.

"Well if you'd stayed away from the carbohydrates like I told you too!" Gaia puffs as she tries to do up the buttons on the back.

"Gaia, I am about to take in a really deep breath to scream at you and I hope a button hits you in the face!" I bark at her.

Blight stumbles in to diffuse the situation, well actually it's to get some help doing up his bowtie but it works much the same way.

"This damned thing gets harder to do every year," he grumbles.

I attempt to do it up as Gaia lifts her knee to my back and tries to stretch her carefully crafted design together.

"We're going to be late at this rate." Lalaney joins us, tapping away on her gadget. "Sebastian and the District 8 party just headed downstairs."

"Oh, someone give me a knife!" Gaia sighs exasperated.

"I echo those sentiments," I add.

Lalaney goes to get a knife muttering something about 'every year'.

Gaia slices all the buttons off the back of the dress and pokes holes in the delicate material.

"La, pass me some of that white ribbon from my bag."

"La?" I frown.

Lalaney just shakes her head at me, it's usually accompanied by a mouthed 'Don't Start' but this time she leaves it out. She _must_ be stressed.

Gaia does a patch job, lacing the ribbon through the new holes and tying me up so the dress doesn't fall off. She ties it up very roughly truth be told, then tuts at my picked-bare nails and repaints them.

We are out and in the elevator in just under forty-five minutes. The door opens at the 4th Floor but Sandy, Finnick, Mags and their Stylists and Escort see our shared foul faces and step back.

"We'll catch the next one," Finnick winks.

The foyer is humming with voices, people coming and going. Some have clipboards and headsets, others have ridiculous hairstyles and towering heels.

"Come on, come on!" Lalaney beckons us along. "It really will not do for this years Victors to get there before us!"

The stage has been constructed right at the far end of the foyer and three enormous TV screens will play the three-hour long highlights for Katniss, Peeta and the rest of us to relive the 'exciting' events of the 74th Hunger Games, whether we like it or not.

Lalaney pushes Blight and I behind the stage where we join the gathering of other Victors waiting to be taken up to the balcony all together.

A young man with a clipboard looks epically frustrated. He puts a dramatic hand to his forehead and exclaims,

"How hard is it? Be here at 7! It's 7:20!" He holds his hands up to the sky.

"Who is he talking to? Is he talking to us?" I ask Blight out of the side of my mouth.

"He better not be," Blight says gruffly back. "I haven't given up my evening, thrust myself into a suit just to have some melodramatic kid tell me off. I might be old but I reckon I can still pack a punch if you'll hold him down for me."

An amused smile crosses my lips.

"Don't tempt me. Who else are we waiting for? We've just seen District 4 on the way, is that it?"

We take a look around at our colleagues.

"District 4, 3 and 6 I think," Blight counts on his fingers. "Yeah, we're not the last."

There's an energetic buzz as the organisers start letting the audience in. I wonder whether Finnick has purposefully arrived late so that he can make his way through the adoring crowd. Sure enough there is a hormonal cry that precedes his appearance.

"You did that on purpose didn't you?" I punch his arm. "Kept us all waiting."

"Waiting! You only got here five minutes before us!" Sandy scoffs, clearly missing the joke. "Are we last?"

"No, 3 and 6 still to come," Blight says again.

"Great, I'm going to speak to Chaff," Finnick squeezes Blight's shoulder. "Coming?"

"Sure."

Mags says something about Flora and goes with them.

Sandy takes one look at me and slopes off without saying a word.

I'm left alone.

The other Victors are talking amongst themselves, some smiling, some looking anxious about watching their Tributes die again. I search out Solange and Gamma from District 5. Their Tribute came so close. I mean the mutts probably would have savaged Merade the second they sniffed her out if she'd still been alive but I want to tell her Mentors that I believed she could have made it all the way. Would they want to hear that? Possibly not. I leave it.

I hear a hearty laugh cut through the drone of the waiting crowd around the other side of the stage. It's Brutus, he's cheerfully banging Gloss on the back after what must have been a tremendous joke. Gloss doesn't seem to have enjoyed it as much as Brutus, he's casting an uncomfortable glance over to his sister who is deep in conversation with…Calico I think his name is, from District 8.

The remaining Districts really are taking their time so I amble around, drumming my fingers on the side of the stage. I watch the workers hovering around, testing this and that. I duck under a piece of scaffolding and down some steps to take a look at the machinery that will lift the special guests up onto the stage.

I see a young girl in a pale yellow dress. It seems to glow in the low lights under here. She's looking around, examining a large makeshift wall that stands to her right. She doesn't belong under here in her pretty dress and glossy brown hair falling around her bare shoulders.

I think about going over to her, she must be lost.

Or is she?

She isn't wandering like I am, she's staying there next to that crude wooden wall as though she's been told to stand there.

Then, just as I'm about to call out, someone else arrives. An older man strides straight up to her. He's smartly dressed like the rest of us. He touches her shoulder gently but she almost jumps out of her skin.

"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you."

Oh my! It's Haymitch and that's Katniss! She looks so…small and child-like here. Nothing like the confident hunter we saw in the arena. Nothing like the girl that threatened suicide rather than do as the Capitol demanded.

"Mason!" Finnick's calling me, it must be nearly show time. I reluctantly leave the new addition to our ranks to join the other veterans for our procession up the rickety, temporary stairs to the balcony. We'll sit in darkness. Haymitch will join us after his entrance and then every so often the lights will come on to get his reaction to something but mainly we'll be left alone.

Blight will probably fall asleep, like he does most years.

I will spend three hours watching that lost girl in the yellow dress, waiting for a flicker of the rebellious hunter, waiting to see the emergence of our new Mockingjay.


	67. Muddying The Waters

**Chapter Sixty-Seven- Muddying The Waters**

I carefully watch The Girl On Fire all through the highlights. She does well, but not well enough to convince me. While we're all leaving the makeshift studio I overhear some of the others talking about what a cute couple Katniss and Peeta make.

"Such a lovely story."

"It's about time someone got something good out of this damned thing."

There's a string of cars waiting to bus us all over to Snow's mansion for the party to celebrate Katniss and Peeta's victory. Blight and I share a car with the woman from District 6 that Blight and Chaff had spent the evening with the other night, and her District partner.

Blight and I share a look as the District 6 Victors stare wide-eyed out of the windows watching the city whiz past with all the excitement of small children.

'What are they on?' I mouth to Blight.

'Morphling,' he replies.

Oh yeah. That explains it.

When we get to the mansion I'm introduced to my red envelope for the evening. I pass a few common courtesies with him and then head straight for an Avox holding a tray of glasses of champagne. I'm on my third when one of our Sponsors spots me. She's a tolerable woman with hair like a fluffy pink cloud and she presses my hands together between hers in solidarity.

"So awful for them to go that way this year. Really thought little Hetty might make it further than the Cornucopia," she gabbles. I wish I'd got in a few more drinks before this talk began but this is one of the few Sponsors I've managed to get without having to sleep with anyone.

Eventually she runs out of sympathetic steam and bustles off to find Blight.

I take another glass in each hand and cut through the crowd to find my own dark corner to hide in. I just make it into a little alcove when Peeta and Katniss are announced and start circling their own adoring Sponsors and fans. I remember how awful it was being forced to interact with people who'd been betting on my death or survival. I remember the awkwardness of meeting the supporters of the Tributes I'd killed. At least Katniss and Peeta have each other.

I see Sandy in the crowd waiting to talk to Katniss, but I think the younger girl stares straight through her, she seems to be rather overwhelmed.

Snow makes his usual appearance, surrounded by familiar faces with names from my red envelopes. I feel guilted into seeking out the latest. I see him chatting to a leggy blonde in hotpants the same colour as my dress. I'm about to leave him to it when I almost bump into Finnick carrying two more flutes of champagne.

"Woah, bolting already?"

"Don't tempt me."

He carries on along his path and hands one of the glasses to the blonde. She must be his 'date' for tonight. He offers me the other. I shake my head and flag down a passing Avox to take my empty glasses and replace them with a single full one.

It turns out my 'date' goes to the same cosmetic surgeon as Finnick's 'date'. They are getting along famously which gives Finnick and I the opportunity to…well get pretty drunk.

We laugh cattily at the old man from District 8's dancing and at the ridiculous shoulder pads on one of the District 12 Sponsors. It's when Finnick takes me by the hand and spins me around in time to the excessively dull music that I see Fulvia. She catches my eyes and then heads for the ladies room.

I apologise to my partner and the 'date', who it seems has forgotten all about me, and follow her.

There are at least twenty women in the restroom just reapplying layers of paint and powder. Fulvia is right at the end, furthest away from me, so I nip into a cubicle ready to head to the mirrored area to wash my hands.

I push in between the dabbing elbows and sweeping shoulders next to Plutarch's secretary.

"You look lovely tonight," she says.

"Thanks," I say tightly. What bad news is she going to give me now? "How's your employer?"

"Fine, great actually. Word is he's getting a promotion."

Promotion? What's a promotion for a Gamemaker? Is he being moved up from mutts to landscape?

"That'll be nice for him," I reply, checking my own makeup. Not that I'd know how to fix it if it had gone wrong.

"Yes, I mean it's terribly sad for the person he's replacing. I'm only guessing, no one's heard from him in two days. An old friend of yours I think? Anyway must dash, see you next year," and she scurries out on her bright red stiletto heels.

An old friend of mine that Plutarch might be replacing? I don't have any friends involved in making the Games do I? I don't have many friends period. He's getting a promotion and replacing someone I know who's gone missing….

It occurs to me in a gasp. The women on either side of me turn in alarm.

"Damn waters too hot!" I cover up, shaking my hands above the basin.

Seneca! It's so obvious now, I think I'll blame the champagne for my slow mind. Plutarch's promotion! Head Gamemaker! But where's Seneca? My old friend Seneca, Snow's future son-in-law. I can't wait to tell Finnick.

I hurry out of the restroom and grab a hold of Finnick's bicep.

"Guess what I just heard!" I say, a little too loudly because our 'dates' stop their flirting to stare.

"What have you heard?" Finnick asks, a wry smile on his face.

"Um…there's rumours that… they might…bring out a giant cake for Katniss and Peeta! You should be the first ones there!" I try to hustle the 'dates' away but they just laugh at me. "Fine," I stamp my foot. "Odair, with me if you want cake."

He follows me dutifully and I take him to the alcove I'd hidden in before.

"I can't see any cake." He stands with his hands on his hips. "I've been led here under false pretences."

I clamp my hand over his mouth.

"Shut up and listen!"

We're both too drunk to be sharing this potentially treasonous information in such a public place but I'm hoping if someone comes by they'll just think we're smooching in the corner.

"Seneca Crane is missing, presumed dead!" I hiss in his ear.

"Presumed dead by who?" he mumbles through my fingers.

"Well me, I presume him to be dead." I release his mouth to smack his chest. "Don't question my intelligence."

"But why? He's in Snow's back pocket isn't he? What with being engaged to his daughter and all."

"Err _this_!" I make a sweeping gesture over the whole room. "_That_!" I point specifically at Peeta and Katniss, still making their way around the room, now separately. "The berries must've really pissed him off. Like a child staring straight into the face of a scolding parent and smiling. I'll bet anything you like he's been murdered in revenge for letting it happen." It's on that word _murder_ that I feel a strange pang in my chest and get a familiar taste of clementines in my mouth.

Finnick smiles a lazy smile and steps closer to me. He takes my chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts my head up to meet his eyes.

"You're crazy," he says softly and drops a kiss to my lips. Then he pauses, our lips millimeters apart. "Stop talking," he whispers before kissing me again. "Unless you're trying to kill us both."

I pull away from his third kiss and he raises his eyebrows in question.

"You can't just shut me up by kissing me you know!" I try to look furious but after…I don't know how many champagnes, my face won't seem to do exactly as I tell it anymore. "I'm not one of your 'dates'."

He looks me up and down and says pretty firmly,

"Yeah I know."

"Don't be rude." I stab him with an accusatory finger. "You're not as charming as you think you are, you know!"

"Sure, sure. I could have you if I wanted."

I decide that Finnick's a little too cocky when he's been drinking.

"Have you had a train ticket home yet?" I ask.

"Nope."

"Then you have until then to prove it…" I spin him around grandly and point into the crowd. "Seduce Katniss Everdeen!"

"You're crazy!" he repeats. "There's Annie for starters and Peeta for seconds and the fact that she's sixteen for thirds."

"How old were you?"

"Too young." He moves around me and traps me behind his arms criss-crossed across my chest. "Why don't you try, you've already banged her Stylist."

I groan.

"NO! That's not fair! Flirting is your thing. My thing is…" I struggle to end the sentence.

"Making people cry? I heard one of your Prep Team sobbing in the Foyer the other day."

"Sure! I think we're all aware of the fact that seducing people is not my thing. I'll make her cry, give me ten minutes and I'll have her crying like my third grade teacher!"

"I hope you have a child one day that's exactly like you."

"You will never know." I tap his arm knowingly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you'll be all loved up in District 4 with Annie Odair and…ten little Odairs. You'll never come see me and Horrible Mason Junior. We'll spend all our time living in trees like monkeys, being smelly and shouting at each other."

He chuckles.

"That sounds nice, I mean you really shouldn't call your child 'Horrible Mason Junior' but it's nice that there's a plan." He squeezes me tighter. "Don't forget things might be changing. You and Horrible Mason Junior could come and enjoy some sunshine?"

"Are you sure you want the Odairs mixing with the Masons?" I sigh. "Muddying the waters."

He turns me back around.

"I _knew _that would upset you!"

"I'm not upset!" I widen my eyes.

"Yes you are or you wouldn't have said anything! I know you, obviously better than you know yourself. Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" I scoff. "Jealous of what?"

"Me and Annie."

"Shut up." I shrug off his arms and take a step back. "You _are_ cocky when you're drunk. Why would I be jealous of you and Annie?"

"I don't know but you're being all weird."

I almost choke on my disbelief.

"_I'm _being weird?! You're the one asking me not to talk to your girlfriend! You're the one that keeps kissing me! You're the one that's all touchy feely with me! Which is all fine because we're friends but then you act like there's something wrong with it and I shouldn't talk to Annie in case I let something slip."

I can feel my face blistering red under all of Gaia's carefully applied make-up. It must be the alcohol but I've never felt a change in mood as quick as this before. I'm absolutely furious with him! How dare he imply that I'm wracked with jealousy like I'm just some Capitol fangirl!

"You've got some deep rooted guilt in there buddy," I jab him aggressively. "Don't be laying it at my door when you're the one knocking on it in the middle of the night. Sort yourself out because I am not doing this. I am not your dirty secret but I am bored of you right now so I'm gonna go talk to someone else."

I spin on my heels and walk away from him without looking back. It's incredibly painful but I'm going to pretend it isn't. I'm going to find Blight, scoop him off the floor and the two of us will stumble out to the cars in hopes that none of the security team stops us because President Snow wants to announce that another family member is dead.

They don't and we make it back to the Training Center. The phone rings at least five times but I instruct Lalaney not to answer it. There're a few loud bangs on the door at around one in the morning but I roll out of bed to catch Lalaney halfway across the living area about to answer it.

"I told you! No!" I stare her down. She creeps back into her own room and I remain there until I'm sure that she's definitely climbed back into bed.

I think I might make a good mother _actually_.


	68. An Awful Nightmare

**Chapter Sixty-Eight- An Awful Nightmare**

I'm pretty sick the next morning. Lalaney finds me curled up on my floor next to a trashcan and pins my hair back for me.

She perches on the edge of my bed watching me feeling pretty sorry for myself.

"Good night?"

I just let out a guttural moan.

"You've fallen out with Finnick."

Another moan.

"He was outside all night you know."

"I heard him at one," I mumble.

"I know, he came back half an hour later. I talked to him."

_Another_ moan.

"I told you not to!"

"Oh you remember that then? Do you remember telling me that he was probably cheating on Annie and…well the exact words you used were 'probably with me, I'm being cheated on…I mean with…I'm being cheated with by Annie…no Finnick and I didn't even know!' and then you listed quite a few awful words that I didn't learn until I was in my late twenties!"

"Sorry."

"So is he. Look, I don't know what's happened between you two but this is silly. You're hugging a trashcan, he was slurring his words, it's obvious that you both had too much to drink and you've had a silly argument. Have you had sex with Finnick?"

"No!"

"Are you in love with him?"

"No!"

"Then I don't see where the problem is! Just rinse your mouth out, brush your hair and go down to the 4th Floor to apologise because you kids are driving me crazy! My child is eleven years old, I shouldn't be having to deal with hormonal fall-out at half one in the morning yet!"

I haven't got the energy to protest that it is, of course, all Finnick's fault but when the knocking resumes she makes me go to it. She can't make me stand up though and my head feels too heavy to lift upright so I crawl on all fours to the door. It takes a while to be brave enough to kneel up to reach the door handle but when the door opens I see…not Finnick. It's a mail carrier. Not another red envelope!

I feel a familiar lurch in my stomach, don't vomit on the mail carrier Johanna!

He hands me a long thin iridescent envelope and leaves.

Our train tickets! I tear it open eagerly. How much longer?

Today! 6pm. We'll have to leave for the train station as soon as the Victors' Interview finishes. I attempt to struggle to my feet to go and tell Blight but I soon deem it an unreasonable idea and drop back onto all fours.

The excitement of going home soon overtakes the effects of the poisonous champagne and it only takes me two hours to get showered and dressed. There's no answer at my house but Mother never answers the phone and Joey must be at school so I leave a message with Egor that we'll soon be on our way home.

I load up three of Gaia's golden bags with items that I've taken a fancy to this year. There's the thick knitted cardigan that I wore when the Training Scores came in. Next to it is the pair of brown pants with a thin fur lining that'll put me in good stead for the winter. On the top goes the book I attempted to read up on the roof terrace.

I bring my bags into the living area for an Avox to come and collect while we're at the Interview. Blight brings one bag and it clinks when he puts it down. I catch his eye.

"In case it's a bad winter again," he tells me.

Gaia appears to squeeze me into yet another skintight outfit, this time it's a scarlet leather strappy top and black pants. There's accompanying thigh-high boots with gigantic heels. As I point out to Gaia,

"What is the point of giving me tight full-length pants when three quarters of them are going to be covered by shoes?!"

"It's sexy," comes the reply as if it's obvious.

It's an absurd outfit, I squeak whenever I move and as soon as I leave the air-conditioned suite and elevator I start to sweat profusely. Never felt less sexy in my life.

It's only when I'm sliding noisily into my (also leather) seat that I realise that I haven't been down to talk to Finnick. He slots in, late as usual, three rows in front of me next to Haymitch. I can't get his attention and I have nothing to write a note on to pass to him. I can't even shred my own clothes because I'm wearing an entire cow!

Katniss and Peeta cuddle up on the loveseat provided for them and play the adorable turtledoves. The audience coo and whisper about how _wonderful_ they are together.

They must've missed the flicker of panic when Caesar asked Katniss when she first knew that she loved her District partner. Caesar, ever the professional, prompted her with an answer but _I_ didn't miss the poignant hesitation. It doesn't matter though because I'm going home! I sit through dull questions and insipid answers all the while thinking about the forest behind my house, the sweeping dark rosewood staircase that Joey and I tried to surf down on our mattresses last year, Uncle Fern's butcher shop.

Caesar wraps up the interview and I try to push my way down to Finnick. He gets hooked by some Capitol camera crews almost as soon as he leaves his seat. I consider just barging in and shoving their cameras away but Blight catches my arm.

"We have to go."

"But I—" I start to say, watching Finnick talking into a cluster of microphones. He's brushing his fingers through his bronze hair while grinning with that bright boyish smile, knowing exactly what effect it'll have on the giggly, shamelessly hormonal women in the audience. I feel a funny twinge in my stomach when I see that smile and it reminds me of my anger last night.

'_You're the one that keeps kissing me! You're the one that's all touchy feely with me!' _I'd said to him. That smile looks so genuine, so heart-breakingly charming that it seems to be special and only for you. It's not though. He's not.

I feel like I don't want to apologise anymore.

"Never mind, let's go." I follow Blight out to the waiting car. I'll see Finnick in a year. If he wants to talk to me he can call me. If he can sneak away from Annie that is.

I roll my eyes at my own thoughts and Blight frowns at me but doesn't say anything.

Lalaney is waiting for us with our luggage at the train station. There's the usual rigmorale of getting photographs for permits to be issued to get through to the trains, then the tickets checked to make sure we get on the right train. Everywhere we go we're escorted by Peacekeepers in case…I don't know in case we decide to make a break for a different train or something.

It's in its usual dock under the wrought iron arch with digital display that reads 'Victors' Train: District 7- 18:00'.

I go straight to bed as soon as we are allowed on board. I lay there staring at the ceiling and listening to the engines firing up.

Finnick is definitely the one that needs to apologise. I don't need to apologise. He's the one flashing that smile around, kissing me, getting into my bed and then making me feel guilty about it. I shouldn't feel guilty; I've done nothing wrong here…I don't think.

Once the train gets into motion my thoughts turn to what I have done. I've been really excited about going home but that continuous ringing sound on the other end of the phone line haunts me. I'd written it off as being perfectly explainable but there's a knot in my stomach that worries that I'm going to see a single solemn face at the District 7 station waiting to give me bad news. If there's one at all. What if this time it's both of them? What if I'm coming back to an empty house?

I make up my mind quickly and firmly. If, when I get back, there's nobody at home, I'm going to pack up some food and head out into the woods until someone finds me and stops me. Or until winter stops me. I couldn't be by myself in that enormous house. It would drive me crazy. Perhaps that's why Agnes and Wiress took in Byte and his sister, it's better to have company.

After my early night, during which I still don't sleep particularly well, I rise early and take the book that I'm determined to read to the dining car to flick through over breakfast.

Lalaney has beaten me to the table though.

"Trouble sleeping?" I ask.

She shrugs.

"Guess so. Did you talk to Finnick yesterday?"

I shake my head.

"No. He was busy, I was packing."

"Are you going to call him then?"

"No, I think I'm going to wait until he calls me."

"And then ignore it?" She raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her coffee. "Like when he tried to apologise before?"

"What did he say?" I bite my lip, tearing a jam pastry into tiny bits on my plate.

"Why don't you call him to find out?"

"Why are you always on his side?!" I drop the last bit of pastry onto my plate with a little more force than the others.

"Call him," she replies stubbornly.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Is there something I should know about?" Her persistence and secrecy is off-putting.

"Call him. As soon as you get home."

"There _is_ something I should know about!"

"Just call him Johanna," she sighs.

I spend the rest of the day on the train trying to trick her into telling me whatever it is that Finnick said. She holds firm but it distracts me from worrying about what might be waiting for me at the train station.

When we pull into the station my stomach tightens. There's the familiar flashing of cameras, not as many as last year, there's less and less as the years go on, but it means I can't see who else is present.

Lalaney offers me her hand and I take it. We follow Blight. What's going to be beyond that bolted steel door?

There's a screeching of the bolt being slid to one side before the door opens to the flashes and lukewarm applause.

The Mayor is the first person shaking Blight's hand. He looks at me and offers it unsure. This time I take it but my eyes search the gathering of people. It's nice to see some normal people again, looking tired, old and…normal. There are no chocolate coloured eyes that match mine though.

"Where are they?" I mutter.

The Mayor answers me.

"Everyone else is outside."

Everyone else? Oh…yeah.

Part of the crowd on the platform is dressed in black, they lead us through the Office and out onto the muddy road in front. As we come down the steps there, on the grass, is a dark-haired family, all with stern faces. Hemlock's family. Next to them is a larger gathering of blonde and auburn haired relatives, one in their midst is the splitting image of her deceased twin. They all avoid looking at us. My first year as a Mentor I tried to apologise to the families, but there was nothing I could say. What can the girl who tried to look like sword fodder say to those whose relatives really were? Now I find it's best to just walk away. No eye contact, no words.

This year though something occurs to me and I stop on the steps. I press three fingers to my lips and raise them in the air, just like Katniss had done at Rue's death and just like District 12 had done for her. A mark of respect and farewell.

Only one person is watching me though. The freckles on her face are a perfect copy of the ones on the dead girl I last saw laying on the blood-soaked ground in front of the Cornucopia. She mimics my gesture. Her family sense her movement and look up. Hemlock's family join in.

The Peacekeepers on either side of the entrance to the train station don't seem to know what to do. Perhaps they don't know the meaning of the District 12 sign, or perhaps they are human under that white armour and are honouring the respect it represents.

Lalaney squeezes my hand and I lower my other arm.

Now, dare I look out for my family?

Nothing.

No one.

The knot in my stomach tightens and my legs wobble. I finish the steps and try to walk straight, my head up high. Just get home and find out what's happened later. Just get home. Don't cry. I shrug away Lalaney's hand and hit the road.

Blight tries to call me back for the car to take us all but I want to walk. I want to come to terms with their absence before I get home and whatever might be revealed there.

I pound out a steady rhythm with my feet but my thoughts are buzzing.

Little Joey's hand waving at me from the Reaping. His face looking up at me shining with excitement when we found the crawlspace under the stairs. His rosy cheeks out in the snow.

Mother passing me the pinecone in the room of the Justice Building just after my reaping. Her embarrassed smile after the burnt jerky incident. The beautiful way her hair pooled around her head when she lay in the sun while Father and I swung through the trees. The way she smelt so comforting after a bad dream or bout of sickness.

Where are they? What's happened to them?

I break into a run. Are they lying in their own blood in front of the front door, ready for me to discover them? Are they hanging from the banister? Or worse, have they been cleared away, along with all their belongings and proof that they ever existed?

I can't stand it. Their names are on my lips as I round the corner into the Victors' Village. I can't keep it in anymore, any minute now their names are going to spill from my mouth in a desperate, pleading scream.

"Mother!" Another voice beats me to it.

My mother looks up from the flowerbed she's digging into. Joey is on the green in the centre of the Village, a plank of wood in his hands.

Joey calls to Mother again and drops the wood to the floor, hurtling towards me.

I catch him in my arms and hold him tightly.

"Where were you?" I half scold, half laugh with relief.

"We didn't know you were coming back!" he exclaims and holds me just as tight.

"I left a message with Egor!"

"He must've forgotten."

Of course he had. Silly idea really leaving a message with the senile old coot.

"I'm so happy to see you," I whisper to him. "I was afraid…"

"What?"

"Nothing, it's nothing now because we're together again." I smile and a joyful tear rolls down my cheek.

"Ok, I can't breathe now," he groans. "You're going to have to let me go."

"Never!" I laugh.

"You're killing me!"

"That's ok because then I'd get to keep you forever."

"You're so weird!" He starts to struggle against me and, still chuckling, I let him go.

Mother is standing in front of us, still holding her dirty gardening tools.

I can't read her face. Is she happy to see me like I am her? Is she still afraid of me? I don't care. I grab her and squeeze her too.

"I missed you Mother."

Even if she pushes me away I'm still relieved that she's not mortally wounded on our hardwood floor. I'd rather a distant mother than a dead one any day.

Then, an amazing thing happens. I feel something, a small, light pressure on my back. She's holding me too! Not tightly, it's still a pretty flimsy hug, but it's a hug all the same! I grab Joey by the scruff of his collar and pull him in as well. I can't help it, I sob like a child waking up from an awful nightmare.


	69. The Tide Is Turning

**Chapter Sixty-Nine- The Tide Is Turning**

As I stand there embracing my real family, I notice part of my surrogate one waiting on the porch of my house. They beat me home in the car but I can't remember them passing me.

When I finally make my way up the steps towards Blight and Lalaney, I sheepishly apologise for running away. Lalaney tells me that she called my name over and over when they passed me on the road but I was obviously lost in my own dark thoughts.

I apologise again but her face tells me that she understands. I invite her in for dinner but she shakes her head.

"My train is heading back to the Capitol in an hour. I've dropped your bags just inside the door," she tells me. "Don't leave them there until you need something from them ok? Take them up to your room."

"Yes Mom," I roll my eyes. "Look I'll do it now." I step through the door and seize the gold bags in both hands. "As soon as you've gone they'll go straight upstairs."

"Urgh!" She presses a fist to her chest. "You've grown so much!" and she gently pats my cheek. "Take care of yourself ok ?"

I nod and she turns to Blight.

"And you, just try not to drink yourself to death before next year."

"I can't promise anything," Blight mutters as she pulls him into a hug.

"Look after that little girl," I say when it's my turn for a hug. "She'll be nearly a teenager soon and then comes the fun."

"Don't remind me! Say hi to Egor from me. And err..." Her eyes flash to the empty houses around the Village Green, one supposedly inhabited by our mysterious neighbour The Unseen Victor.

I catch her eye and flutter a light wink at her.

"Do you have something in your eye?" Blight frowns at me. I give him a lazy shove in reply.

"Oh come here again, I'm going to miss you guys!" She pulls us back into another tight hug. "I'll see you both next Reaping day but call me ok?"

The car beeps its horn for her to get a move on but she holds us tighter still.

"Be good," she says in a quieter voice. "Please be good. I'm hearing things from friends that work with other Districts. It could get hairy this year. Please be good." She squeezes us once more and finally backs away.

'Especially you,' she mouths and points at me before she heads down the steps and towards the car. She gives me a meaningful look before she waves one more time and leaves us.

Joey and Mother are waiting at the bottom of the porch steps looking unsure about whether to wait for Blight to leave or come up to meet him. Blight solves this issue by swinging his arms into a loud clap and proclaiming,

"Well this is awkward. I'm going home." He brushes past them and heads for his blue panelled house with the loose shutters on the upstairs window. Every year he says he's going to fix it but he never does. From what I've worked out he spends the rest of the year drinking and playing chess by himself until one of us interrupts him.

Joey bounds up onto the porch and grabs my hand excitedly.

"I found some mushrooms today, Egor helped me pick them, he said they were safe. We could have creamy green beans and mushrooms for dinner?"

He leads me into the kitchen and shows me the basket on the table. He looks so proud of himself.

"Umm…" I prod one of them. "Egor said they were alright?"

"Yup!"

"Well…maybe tomorrow." And by that I mean 'after I've had chance to take them down to the vegetable market and get them checked out'. "We can do something with the green beans though."

"There's some garlic?" he offers and opens a cupboard. He whips out a large skillet and some odd silver domes. "Salt and pepper," he explains.

He sets to work moving expertly around the kitchen, grabbing pinches of powders and slicing up bulbs of other things. The Capitol can keep their rich fancy foods, I've got the amazing things my brother can do with almost nothing.

It doesn't take us long to get back into our usual routine. I walk Joey halfway to school on weekdays and then go back to check up on the state of my little tree house village.

Some of the boards are sagging a little and need replacing but I don't think the children come here anymore so it's not particularly urgent. There's a work crew that's been making it's way towards my little village anyway so I imagine I won't have to worry about it for much longer.

Egor begins to need more and more assistance around the house. Joey and I have lunch with him at the weekend and during the week Joey goes over there to eat sweets. One morning I'm helping Joey button up his coat while we wait for Mother to come to the market with us. When she comes out she freezes on the top step and gasps, pointing out to Egor's house.

There's a thick black smoke cloud billowing out of one of the windows.

"Oh no," I drop the folded up bags we were taking with us and pelt across the green, pausing only to pick up a hefty-sized rock to fling at Blight's door as I pass. I miss and hit one of his shutters, breaking it. "Blight! Get out here!"

I almost pull Egor's front door off its hinges, there's no need to lock doors here in the Victors' Village, and I almost choke on the acrid smoke filling up the hallway.

"Egor! Egor?!" I cough. There's a slight shuffling noise upstairs so I pound up towards it.

Egor is crawling along the floor, coughing and spluttering. I grab him around the middle and help him downstairs, out into the fresh air. We meet Blight at the door.

"What is it?"

"Err…!" I gesture at all the smoke. "Fire!"

"Yes! But what's causing it genius?"

I shrug petulantly.

"Get him out of here," Blight growls before bracing himself and heading into the black fog.

Joey is very concerned about Egor, who is now dry retching onto the grass.

Mother helps him into our house but I stay outside waiting for Blight, hoping I don't have to launch two rescue missions in one day. I needn't have fretted though, Blight reappears quickly, holding an empty bucket.

"Daft twit left the hob on, set fire to the curtains."

"The curtains made that much smoke?!"

"Looks like it, not District 8's finest work I think. There's some pretty well done sausages in there if you want them?"

I wrinkle up my nose and shake my head.

"Should we get him to a healer?"

Blight looks doubtful. "I don't know that he'll be up for the journey. He has problems with his chest as it is, a lungful of smoke will have taken it out of him. Best get the healer here."

As if on cue, Joey appears to tell us that Egor is coughing up 'black goo' so he's going to run into town to fetch help.

I turn to Blight.

"We can't let him live by himself anymore. He was upstairs when I found him, coming out of his bedroom. Those sausages must've been there since last night. He doesn't know if he's coming or going most of the time. It's going to be one accident after another until he accidentally kills himself."

Blight takes a big step away from me and holds out his hands,

"Oh no, he's not moving in with me! I've got…things to do! I'm busy! My house isn't suitable for two!"

"Where else is he going to go? He can't stay with us! I'm not going to have him accidentally burn down my house with my Mother and Joey inside!"

"But he won't with so many of you to keep an eye on him! I just have to go to the bathroom! My eyes are off him and he does something stupid!" Blight exclaims.

I just think he doesn't want his peaceful solitude disturbed.

"Blight, Johanna!" My Mother calls from our porch. It's the loudest I've heard her voice in four years. "Come and help me give Egor a wash before the healer comes!"

Blight and I put our argument on hold while we support Egor's wobbly frame up the stairs and into the bathroom. Mother runs some instantly hot water from the tap, a luxury in District 7, into our large silver bathtub. Blight helps him strip and the two of us lift him into the tub. Mother scrubs him down and all the while he is apologising in a sad, raspy voice.

Mother reassures him.

"It's fine, everything's alright. Your house is fine, you're fine. Don't worry about it."

Where were her comforting words when _I_ needed them? I think jealously.

He coughs up some more sooty mucus into a washcloth that Mother hands him.

When Joey returns, instead of the healer he has brought two bulky young men.

"The healer was busy," Joey tells us. "So she sent her nephews to help us get him over there."

"There's been a flogging in town so our aunt is dealing with the wounds," one of the boys explains.

"Yes we brought a cart though because Joey said he couldn't walk very well," the other adds.

"A flogging in town? What for? Who?" I frown deeply. There's never been one in all of my memory. What can that person have done that was so heinous to receive such a punishment?

"Bernt Virke," the older of the two boys answers.

My Mother gasps.

"He was on the same Logging team as my husband. Is he alright?"

"He's looking bad," the older boy replies.

"There was a lot of blood," the younger adds, shuddering. "Our aunt was trying to sedate him when we left."

"What on earth did he do?" Mother looks fearful. "He's a grown man, not some foolish boy."

The two look at each other uneasily.

"We're not sure," the older tells us. "But our cousin was one of the ones that brought him in. She said the Peacekeepers marched him into the square, tied him to rings on the floor and one of them called out 'Let this be a lesson to you District 7!' and then just kept hitting him with a whip."

Cold goosebumps run down my whole body.

"Joey, why don't you and…"I gesture to the younger boy, "Go and help Blight get Egor out of the tub and onto the cart." As soon as they are gone, I lock eyes with the older boy. "What lesson? What lesson are we supposed to be learning?"

Mother leans in too.

"Word has it," he says in hushed tones, "that a few of the lumberjacks were keeping back a stash of logs for themselves. Hiding them in the woods and then coming back for them to take home."

"Bernt had four children. I don't think we can blame him for putting away some extra fuel for the fire for winter." Mother looks distraught.

"It's all Capitol wood Mother," I remind her. "Grown in District 7, felled by District 7 Loggers, processed by District 7 factory workers in District 7 factories but all owned by the Capitol. It's stealing, at least that's how they see it. This can't be the first time it's happened though can it? Why is Gallus clamping down now?" Our Head Peacekeeper is usually ok with a little bootlegging as long as he sees some of the return.

"Perhaps someone turned him down," the boy says in an even quieter voice.

"Hmm…or perhaps there's some extra pressure on him to keep District 7 in line now," I muse. The tide is turning for sure. Maybe the Capitol has got wind of some rebel action and is ordering the Head Peacekeepers in the districts to crack down hard on lawbreakers. "I should think we'll see a few more floggings over the next few weeks to prove a point." The Capitol are panicking about something and I want to know what that is.

A slow procession down the stairs interrupts our conversation. The healer's nephews lift Egor up onto the cart and Mother brings him a blanket and some cushions to make him more comfortable.

"I'll come with you," she says kindly. "And don't worry, when you're back you can stay with us for as long as you like."

I let out a soundless sigh and just about catch Blight's smug look. I narrow my eyes and mouth a swear word at him.


	70. The Unwelcome Guest

**Chapter Seventy- The Unwelcome Guest**

From then on Egor stays in one of our spare rooms. He's always been good friends with Joey but he and Mother quickly become closer, she often takes books and tea upstairs to him and I hear them chatting when I walk past.

When he gets better, their chats move down to the kitchen table. Egor teaches Mother some card games and they play together. Sometimes they invite me to join but I'm as good at card games as I am at chess. They're a bit more tactful about their frustrations with me than Blight is though.

"Johanna, perhaps you could go into town and get us some of those iced buns that Joey likes," Mother enquires one day when she senses I'm about to ask to join them. The first snow began to fall this morning so I pull a face at her.

"Do I have to?!" I moan.

"It'll be a nice surprise for him," Egor agrees.

"Oh _now_ you're completely lucid and fully keeping up with the conversation," I tilt my head and roll my eyes at him. "Fine!" I grab my thickest coat and boots, throw a scarf around my neck and head on out into the snow. Stupid Mother and Egor, playing their stupid game. I don't want to play anyway.

But my gritted teeth are only for pretend. I'm not really angry with them. In fact I'm pretty happy. There's a spring in my step as I crunch through the freshly settled snow and I even hum a little tune to myself. A couple of trucks laden with newly felled tree trunks whiz past me and I wave cheekily to the sullen Peacekeepers sitting with their guns across their laps.

When I get to the Bakers the snow is almost half a foot deep.

Mrs Lund is just putting out a large yellow cake with pink flowers on the top when my arrival jingles the bell above the door.

"Oh hello Johanna," she says absentmindedly adjusting the flowers on the cake. "No Little Joey today?"

"He's at school, it's a weekday," I remind her. "Have you got any of the iced buns he likes?"

"Oh right…" She turns on the spot and looks around but it seems like her eyes don't see anything.

"Are you ok Mrs Lund?" I ask tentatively. I can see the iced buns in front of her but she just stares past them.

"Mmm? Oh yes dear, fine thank you, head in a million places that's all. Ah here!" She finally sees them and picks up the tray. "Two days old if that's ok? I could pop a few more in the oven now and they'll be done by this evening if you want fresher?"

"No, no, two days old is fine. I'll take them all." I fish the coins out of my pocket. "Are you sure you're alright?" She starts to count the buns into a paper bag, loses count and has to start again three times.

"Yes…just…" Her eyes flit around the shop desperately. She leans over the counter and whispers. "I'm terribly worried about my boy. He's…well it's nothing serious of course, just…he's been hunting in the woods and selling the meat. Only to the poorer families that can't afford it you understand. He would give it to them but they insist on paying him. After the lashing in the square the other week I've been telling him to stop but he keeps going out. He went this morning, wanted to get out before the snow cuts everywhere off. Every time the bell goes I think it's going to be Peacekeepers dragging him home beaten and bruised." Her bottom lip quivers, and she quickly adds. "Please don't tell anyone!"

"I won't. Why is Geraint doing this?" Geraint Lund was in the grade above me at school and he always seemed like the classic law-abiding citizen, definitely nothing particularly rebellious about him.

Mrs Lund shrugs.

"He started slipping out, we just thought he'd got himself a girlfriend or something but then we found a knife in his room and a makeshift bow and arrow in his closet."

"Does he still keep them there now?"

"No we asked him to hide them out in the woods somewhere. I mean Gallus has never been one for spontaneous searches before but you never know."

"That's good then."

"Johanna…" Mrs Lund starts and then shakes her head and hands over my bag of buns. "Never mind."

"No, what is it?"

"Were you planning on reopening your Uncle's shop? I know it's none of my business but…well if Geraint had somewhere to take the meat, there's less chance of him getting caught selling it at back doors you know?" She immediately looks at the floor as though she's asking me the world.

"I don't know… I hadn't really thought about it. I haven't really been there since I've been back." I admit. "I guess I should do something about it. I'll have to check with my Mother, she's the true heir to it since she's Uncle Fern's sister."

"Well, let me know will you dear."

I nod and pass her all the money from my pocket. She protests that it's too much for the buns so I offer to take the yellow cake as well. She wraps it up in more paper and puts it in a cardboard box for me. I'm given strict instructions to keep the box upright all the way home.

It takes me all of ten minutes to forget this instruction when I swap the bag of buns into my left hand and tuck the cake box under my arm. There's a horrible sliding sound followed by a squelchy thud inside the box. Never mind.

As I round the corner before the Victors' Village I notice tire tracks in the now foot deep snow. They're not deep enough to be a passing lumber truck though. It looks like car tracks. We don't get many cars down here, not unless someone's being picked up or dropped off. I wonder which it is. I hope it's not me being picked up.

There's the culprit, a long black car parked outside my house, tinted windows and everything.

I push open the front door and see my Mother in the kitchen, sat at the table by herself.

"I got the buns and a cake too," I announce. "It looked really pretty in the Bakery but I think I ruined it." I put the box down in front of her and open it carefully. The damage has already been done and the pink flowers have been smushed into the yellow icing, which is now all over the box rather than on the cake.

"It'll be fine," I say, scooping some out on my finger and sucking it off. "Still tastes ok. I'll put it on a plate." I pick up the box again and spin around the kitchen looking for a clean plate to put it on. "What's the car out front?"

"That would be my car," A sly voice behind me announces.

The cake tumbles out of my hands and my stomach flips.

The smell of roses hits my nose a moment before I can turn around and find myself face-to-face with the slithering snake eyes of President Snow.

"Shall we retire to the drawing room, Miss Mason?" He withdraws back into the room he'd emerged from like a crocodile satisfied that he's trapped his prey.

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?!" I hiss at my Mother. She remains where she was, just staring. Great there she goes again. "If he's still here when Joey gets back, take him to Egor's house and hide."

I gulp down the enormous lump in my throat and proceed into 'the drawing room'.

"You know when I was in District 12 Mrs Everdeen offered me tea," Snow announces lazily as I shut the door behind me.

"Lucky you," I reply tartly. "We don't really drink tea in this house."

He's sat in a high backed armchair, a globe-topped cane being teased between his fingers, very regal.

"Then what do you drink?"

"I'm afraid you've driven us to stronger stuff here in District 7," I retort, and cross to the drinks cabinet anticipating his next request. I pour from one of the bottles Blight smuggled back after the 74th Hunger Games. I've pushed all the illegally made bottles to the back of the cupboard.

"Capitol-made I hope." He holds out his hand for the glass I'm about to pass him.

"Of course, haven't you heard? The cellar-made stuff'll make you go blind."

"Not to mention earn fifty lashes for the scoundrel that made it," Snow raises an eyebrow and sniffs the contents.

"Of course." I knock back my glass of blue liquor. "Though there's going to be a few more lashings in the street from now on aren't there?"

"You've got an awfully big mouth Miss Mason," Snow drains his own glass. "And I'm afraid it's going to get you into trouble. I can promise you that." He shakes the glass for a top-up.

"Perhaps if you would call before dropping in next time I'd be more polite," I say through gritted teeth, pouring him more from the blue bottle.

"I think you'll find this is my house Miss Mason, this and all the houses in all the Victors' Villages and accordingly I have every right to 'drop in' whenever I like. Not that I like coming this far out but sometimes it's necessary to maintain _order_. As I said to our latest Victory, Miss Everdeen, a couple of days ago, imagine what state of chaos we'd be in if the Capitol relinquished hold of the districts for one moment. I feel like I need to express this fact a little more to you Miss Mason because you seem to be one of those people that doesn't understand. Just like your uncle, and look what trouble he got himself into." His thick pink lips stretch into an eerie, knowing smile.

"I know," I murmur.

"Yes I know that you know, and I know that you're up to something. Rein yourself in Johanna before something nasty happens. It would be a real shame if something terrible happened to the last few members of the Mason family."

I slam my glass down a little too hard and it shatters against the counter top.

"Why don't you just kill me?" I whisper. "Why threaten my family, what can you possibly need me for that's so important that you have to use them like this?"

"If we're going to be honest with each other Johanna, I did think about it." He brushes a shard of broken glass off his sleeve. "You're such a brash, spontaneous creature that an 'accident' was sure to happen at some point. Then I realised that you might solve another one of my little problems should my own arrangements not reach the right conclusion."

"What arrangements?" I dare to ask.

"Oh I said I was going to be honest, I didn't say I was going to be an open book," he chuckles and another whiff of something metallic assaults me. "I'm an old man but I've not quite lost all my senses. Unlike poor old Egor, it's always such a pity when someone so strong goes through a decline but to almost burn his own house down..." Snow tuts.

How does he know?! I mean everyone in District 7 knows that Egor's a little ditzy, they've seen him crossing the square arm-in-arm with Joey, a bag full of sugar in hand enough times, but as far as I know we're the only ones that know how bad it is. Mother said that even the healer swore to keep his little accident a secret and told everyone she was treating him for another chest infection.

Snow reads my expression like I am the open book and laughs again, getting to his feet.

"I know a lot of things Miss Mason, more than you'll ever know."

He presses a hand to my hip and I feel acidic bile rise in my throat at his proximity. He leans in to whisper in my ear,

"I'll leave you to think about how I might know all these things."

The stench of roses is beyond overpowering now. I feel that bile in my mouth now. I wonder what would happen if I threw up in his face. How can he know all these things? What does he mean? Has he been listening in somehow? No he can't be listening in on everyone all the time can he?

All these thoughts run through my head in one horrific lightning storm of guilt, revulsion and dread.

Snow's eyes narrow to a slit, studying my face before he smoothes down his jacket and goes to the door.

"Mull it over," he adds.

I hear him compliment my mother on our 'lovely home' and then he's gone.

What did he mean? He can't be listening to everything? Someone must be telling him.

That's it. Someone must be feeding him information! But who? And what is this plan he's got for me. How can I be of use? He can't just mean whoring me out to his friends, and what else am I good for really? As he said, I'm impulsive, vindictive and do not play well with others unless there's a threat over my head.

I pour myself another drink in a fresh glass. The liquor only exasperates the flames already searing through my veins and I take extra care when putting the glass down this time. There's a quiet cough from behind me.

Mother is standing in the doorway. She looks small, small and drawn.

"Your hand is bleeding," she says almost inaudibly.

"Is it?" A shard of glass must have slashed me earlier without me noticing. Blood is trickling slowly down my wrist from the base of my thumb. I stare at it a little too long. The appearance of a white cloth blinks me out of it.

Mother is pressing a towel onto my wound.

"That was the President," she says eventually.

"Yes," I sigh.

"He killed your father didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then will you kill him Johanna?" Her grip on my hand tightens and my cut finally starts to hurt.

I watch out of the 'drawing room' window as the black car turns the corner out of the Victors' Village and I mutter my reply,

"I'd love to Mother."


	71. Meeting Croft

**Chapter Seventy-One- Meeting Croft**

Every spare second I have I find myself considering who the rebellion's tattletale might be. Every peaceful moment in the bathtub, every lonely walk back from dropping Joey off at school and every final few moments before sleep, I am thinking about who could betray me. I don't have many friends and I don't have many people that I trust but the ones I have I trust with my life. Lalaney, Finnick, Cinna, Blight…

The Victory Tour is well under way in the rest of Panem while I'm pondering Snow's words. The first stop for Katniss and Peeta is District 11, they were there the day Snow was at my house. The gossip in town says that transmission of their appearance was cut short. There are rumours of dissent reaching my ears. People who were watching the appearance in District 11 spread word that someone in the crowd whistled a tune and there were a few shouts before the screen went dead. I wonder whether singing is illegal in District 11.

By the time the Victors reach District 8, Mrs Lund tells me there'll be a few shortages at the bakery over the next coming weeks.

"Delivery's supposed to come on every second Thursday of the month," she tells me. "The butter and milk have come through as usual but there's been no flour since the delivery last month. So I'm afraid there'll be no sticky buns for a while, got to use as much of my supplies on stuff that'll actually sell."

"That's fine, I'll just take the bread then," I say, then lean over the counter to her and whisper, "Do you think it's got something to do with District 11?"

"I can't see how they can pretend it isn't. It's obvious. They stop showing them on the television and then there are no deliveries of District 11 products. I hope everything's alright there…" She bites the inside of her cheek, a frown on her brow.

"If they're not producing then, no, things aren't alright there," I murmur. "Which means we'll all be cracked down on. Get Geraint in from the woods Mrs Lund."

"Have you spoken to your mother about the butchers?"

"No not yet, but I'll go in and take a look at the place. I'll sort it out."

She nods gratefully.

The Victors arrive in District 7 and do their usual regretful speech. I have to stare once more at Hemlock and Hetty's parents' sorrowful faces from my ceremonial wooden chair in between Egor and Blight on the stage.

Katniss and Peeta hold hands throughout but Katniss stares out away from him and his eyes look sad. There's something going on between them. Yet again I miss my opportunity to talk to them because a Peacekeeper diverts us away inside the Justice Building when we try to follow them.

"Are we not going to the party?" Egor looks expectantly down the corridor to where Katniss and Peeta have been ushered away.

"Not this year Egor," a Peacekeeper called Iberio tells him almost kindly.

I quite like Iberio, he's better than many of the others. He was one of the Peacekeepers sent to watch me when I was collecting timber for my tree houses. He was brand new then, fresh out of the District 2 Academy and sent up to the cold north to watch a girl two years younger than him walking back and forth with planks of wood over her shoulder. He didn't talk to me at first, just like the others, but I got fed up with them all staring at me so I made him hold the toolbag and pass things to me since he was the tallest.

That was how I found out about the District 2 Academy. We didn't talk much but it was sort of nice feeling like I had company rather than just spectators.

"I've got instructions not to let you through," he explains.

"Why?" I demand.

"Come on Johanna, you know they don't train us to ask why. You're not going in and that's all I can tell you. If you were to ask me what I think then I'd say..." he clicks his tongue as he points at Blight "Drinking problem," clicks and points at Egor, "Probably thinks Katniss is his granddaughter," click for me, "Likely to start a bitch fight."

I'm torn between smothering a laugh and feeling insulted so I try to assemble an indignant look on my face.

It doesn't have any effect and Iberio's partner opens the door to the rec room where we usually wait for the train on Reaping Day.

"Go on, you can wait in here until the crowds disperse," he says and we are shut away.

Egor breaks the silence.

"I don't think Katniss is my granddaughter."

"We know E," Blight gives his shoulder a squeeze on his way to the bar.

"I don't even have any children," Egor continues. "Not my thing. Not like Old Croft, may he rest in peace."

Rest in p-

"Croft's dead?" I frown, thinking that something might have happened while I was away. Lalaney definitely said he was still alive.

"I-err-I'm not sure," he splutters. "Is he? I get confused. He won the year before me, you know. He was in my class at school; we were on the same carpentry apprenticeship." His eyes go hazy as if he's losing himself to the memory. "His wife was in the same group as us, she was lovely. Poor girl died. Wolves in the forest, probably disturbed by the work camp passing by. They got married young her and Croft, before he was reaped. It was a lot more common back in those days, being married by 16."

Behind the bar Blight rolls his eyes.

"Now we're off on a blast from the past," he groans. "None of it makes any sense of course."

"Oh shut up and pour me a drink too," I tell him.

"No one thought either of us would come back, me the least because District 7 hardly ever win, what are the chances of having two in two years? But we did and we were the only ones in the Victors' Village for decades until Young Blight came along."

Young Blight, that never fails to bring a smug grin to my face. I must be Baby Mason to in Egor's eyes.

"He's sick…or was sick…" I say, stumbling over my tenses.

"Yes, he is." But that's all Egor will say.

It makes me all the more determined to try to find out just what is going on.

A week or so later, while I know Blight is passed out from a night of overindulging and Egor is playing cards with my Mother in the kitchen, I sneak out to inspect some of the empty houses in the village.

I don't know why I'm so desperate to find out the truth. Perhaps I don't like being out of the loop, perhaps I want to find out how Croft has stayed out of Capitol sight for so long, perhaps I'm just looking for another mission for Agent Mason.

Now,

"If I were a sick old man who hadn't had any human contact in years…where would I chose to hole-up and die?" I murmur to myself.

My first hit is on the large square house with a set of stone steps leading up to the front door. It looks old and foreboding and is set apart from the rest of the village, ideal for hiding the comings and goings. I peer through the front windows and see the house is occupied….by hundreds of cobwebs.

There's a small rustle of movement inside and I back away from the window quickly. Something is living in there, but I don't think it's an old Victor. I think back to Egor's story about Croft's wife and the wolves. As I walk around the house I see the back door has been scratched and scraped until the wood has splintered in the bottom left corner and something small has forced it's way in and out a number of times. I'll have to come back and fix it some time. You never know when the next District 7 Victor might need to move in.

I snort. Yeah whatever Johanna, of all the houses, why would the next poor soul choose this bleak one set apart from the rest of us?

Hang on. They wouldn't unless they hated us. But Croft and Egor were friends…are friends. Surely they'd live…

My eyes settle on the little red house next to Egor's. It's not fancy like the others, there's no porch or shutters, just a simple little cottage. Similar to the houses from the town but a little bigger. Mother and Joey picked our house but if I was the only person in the village, moving here with my young spouse from deep in the sticks of District 7 after a traumatic experience like winning the early Hunger Games, I'd pick a house just like my old one for comfort.

I break into a run and sweep around the back of the house in case Blight decides to look out of his window.

Through the window the house seems empty, but it can't be! There are sheets over the furniture and a film of dust on the window making it a little hazy to see through but there's something on the counter under the window I'm peering though. It's an apple. A ripe, red apple. Now why on earth would an apple stay ripe in an empty old house?

I smile. I've got you Croft!

I cup my hands around my eyes as I look through, deeper into the house. Just as I scan the room, there's a tiny click. A tiny click that I otherwise wouldn't have heard, except that I happened to be scanning the far corner of the kitchen when that cupboard door snapped shut.

If this house is like the others in the village, the doors should be unlocked, so I stride up to the weathered back door and tug it firmly.

It doesn't budge. I groan loudly. I won't be stopped _now_! I was just starting to feel pretty pleased with myself.

Although the snow hasn't fallen again since the day the President visited, I'm still wearing my big boots to get through the slush. They come in pretty handy for the breaking and entering game too.

I plant one of my boots on the white varnish of the door and kick hard. If Croft is in here, I've probably given him a heart attack.

The District 7 motto is: Solid, Dependable. Our Timbers Will Weather Any Storm.

The door was neither solid, nor dependable and it crumbled pretty easily under the Mason storm. The door folds in on itself like paper.

There's a frightened little squeak from inside the kitchen. I decide to ignore it and make a lot of noise as I stomp around the house. Hopefully whoever it is hiding in that cupboard will think I'm an army of Peacekeepers and stay hidden while I snoop around. Just in case, I pick up a wrought iron poker from the fireplace in the dining room. There are only three rooms downstairs, so I progress into the living room and immediately stop in my tracks.

It's almost like a shrine in a mausoleum. There's a slab in the middle of the room, similar to the one I remember waking up on in the Capitol after I was lifted from the arena. On the slab is a man, he's wired up to a machine in the corner that has an undulating line on a monitor and drips that are bubbling away. There are flowers all around him. In fact, if I couldn't see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I'd swear he was dead and these were the tributes from beloved family members.

Uneasily I approach Croft. Judging by the wires and machinery, I'm guessing he's not likely to sit up and grab me but I keep a tight hold on the poker anyway.

His skin looks leathery and yellow-tinged, I can tell that from this far away. It's only as I get closer that I notice something. His hair is grey but auburn at the roots. How odd…he should be…I don't know in his seventies at least. Why is his hair growing back auburn? Actually…

I take another step closer.

This man isn't in his seventies at all. This man can't be a day over forty.

This isn't Croft!

There's a shuffle behind me. I whip around lunging with the poker. It stops millimetres away from piercing the girl's throat.

"Who are you and who is this?!" I bellow, hot blood pumping through my veins again.

She throws a knife to the ground and immediately brings her empty hands to the air.

"Please don't hurt me Johanna!" she cries. She looks to be about the same age as me but I don't recognise her from school or from seeing her around in the town, or from the Reaping Day line-up.

"Who are you?" I repeat slowly. "And who is this?"

Her eyes are glistening with tears and she shakes her head.

"I can't—" She gulps.

"Honey, you better start talking because I don't react well to feeling like I'm the butt of some weird joke," I brandish the poker a little more fiercely. "Where is Croft?"

"He's dead," another voice calls from behind the girl. How many of them were in that cupboard?!

The owner of the voice steps into the room and I can see a middle-aged women with curly blonde hair hugging her neck.

"Then who is this?" I jerk my head towards the body on the slab.

"Can we talk somewhere else Johanna?"

I laugh.

"Like where? The Justice Building? Because that's where you'll end up for impersonating a Victor!"

"Please," the woman says in a calm voice. "Put down the poker and follow me. We'll get this cleared up." She turns her back on me and walks back into the kitchen. The girl follows her. I'm left on my own with the half-corpse.

I check that there's no sound of anyone creeping up behind me and, a firm hand still grasping the poker, I go after the strange women.


	72. Chastised

**Chapter Seventy-Two- Chastised**

The two women lead me back into the kitchen and, to my amazement, open the cupboard door that I'd seen snap closed through the window. It seems as though it used to be a pantry or dry food store of some kind but now it is empty except for a hatch with a set of wooden stairs leading down into a dark basement.

Underneath the dusty, unkempt cottage is a completely furnished apartment. There's even a television.

"Wha—" I'm speechless. A tiny grate in the furthest corner of the room lets the only natural light in as well as a breeze of fresh air. The rest of the light in the room is radiating from electric candelabras mounted to the wall. Under the grate is a set of twin beds and a long piece of blue material separates a double bed from the others.

"Who are you?" I breathe, astounded by the revelation under the floorboards. This puts mine and Joey's crawlspace to shame.

"My name is Sofia, and this is my daughter Matilda," the blonde woman says softly, taking the girl's hand. "My son, Linden, is out with my husband in the forest."

"Why are you here? And who is that upstairs if Croft is dead?" I demand a little louder.

"Croft was my father, he never told anyone about me. He was trying to protect me."

"Why haven't I seen you around?" I eye her suspiciously.

"We've been down here my whole life. My mother stayed with me. Father told everyone that she'd been killed in the woods so that no one saw her when she was pregnant with me. He didn't want me to be reaped, or my children. We've all lived down here living off his Victor money. Five years ago my father began to go through kidney failure. He lasted for two years on dialysis, that's that machine upstairs, and then when he died we risked exposure because the Peacekeepers would come to empty the house. We'd have no home, no money and my children would be in the reaping pot. Matilda here is 17 and Linden is 13, I just know that they'd be reaped just to spite us."

I see her point. If they were found down here, the Capitol would exact their revenge by whipping the parents to within an inch of their life and then all but murder the kids.

"Then who is that upstairs? And whose been collecting Croft's allowance?"

At this question Sofia finally looks guilty.

"Egor," she replies and looks at the floor.

I'm confused.

"That's not Egor, Egor's at my house..." I tell her gently. Maybe she's actually gone stir crazy down here.

"No, Egor's been getting us food and supplies. He sends off the forms to get medikits for the dialysis machine. He introduced me to my husband. He...errr...helped us find Mr John Doe upstairs. We don't know who he is or where he came from but Egor appeared one night with him over his shoulder. He was unconscious and Egor said that he had the same thing as my Dad. We hooked him up and coloured his hair to make him look older. Sometimes a Capitol nurse comes to check on him."

"Every time they come we wait down here like rats in a barrel, just waiting to be found," Matilda interjects suddenly.

"It's not often, once a year maybe?" Sofia tucks her teenage daughter under her arm as if she's a distressed toddler.

"But you'll help us now won't you Johanna?" Matilda's face lights up. "We saw you rescue Egor from his house! We see you on there..." she points to the small television box in the corner. "Every year! You're a hero, just like Egor and you'll help us won't you?"

"Tilly..." her mother tuts and rubs her back, but her eyes are on me for my reaction.

"You want me to take care of you?" I stare back at them, "Little Cupboard Family." I think of Little Joey standing in that formation of 12 year olds at the Reaping in a couple of years. While he's there, these children are huddled down here being cuddled by their parents, one of whom has never had the threat of reaping over her head either. It makes me mad. Cosy little family worrying about losing their money and being tossed into the pot just like everyone else. A precious teenage girl nestling under her Mommy's wing while her town counterpart is spending daylight hours swinging an axe and dragging tree trunks to the nearest truck. No, it makes me angry.

"You want me to take care of you?" I say again, this time with ice in my voice. "My father was killed because they pulled me into a game of death and I dared to survive. My uncle was killed because I tried to keep some children alive. My mother didn't speak to me for three years. This was all because my name came out of the pot that you have all so cleverly avoided being in. Now you want me to not only look after my own family but tether myself to you as well?"

Matilda recoils a little behind Mommy.

"Tilly didn't mean to-"

"No, she did, and so did you otherwise you would have stayed hidden when I bust in upstairs. You're leeches, pathetic scavengers and you saw me as your next meal ticket." I throw the iron poker to the floor and turn my back on them. "Good luck with your cabin fever. See you in the daylight sometime." I wave back to them as I ascend the steps.

"We can help you!" Sofia calls.

"Don't see how," I reply.

"Your uncles shop! Egor said you wanted to open it again. They won't let you just walk right back in. You'll need to change the name above the door. I'm good at Capitol paperwork I could help you!"

"No thank you Little Cupboard Mom," and I slam the pantry door behind me.

It turns out that Sofia was right. The clerk at the Justice Building says that if I want to open the butchers shop, to receive deliveries I need to register the business as open. Apparently all those months I was keeping it open before I went away I was still operating under my uncle's name. Now that I want to open under mine, I have to fill out all these forms.

It's a good few months later when I decide to give up on waiting for the paperwork to come through and head into town to open up the shop myself.

I announce my plan to my family over breakfast.

"Will you still be there at 4:30?" Joey asks through a mouthful of toast and marmalade.

"I don't know, I expect so why?"

"There's going to be a special broadcast today. The school says we have to stay and watch it because the kids that live near the saw mill would still be walking home during it. I guess they don't want anyone to miss it. Sadie thinks it might be a big reveal about Katniss's wedding dress."

"Fascinating." I roll my eyes. "Obviously something they need to detain children for."

"Johanna," Mother chastises. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"I think you need to be quite clever to understand sarcasm _actually_," I purse my lips.

"Yeah," Joey backs me up. "Sometimes I don't know when she's being sarcastic and when she really means what she says."

"Alright genius," I reach over and ruffle his hair. "_That_ was sarcasm by the way, go get your bag and make sure Egor's still ok to take you."

"Are you not taking him today?" Mother asks as she collects up our plates to put in the sink.

"No, I'm going to try calling Lalaney, she's always been good at rushing through paperwork. Then I'm going to secure that loose post at the top of the stairs before I walk into town to check out the shop."

There's no answer at Lalaney's number. Odd, she always has that little gadget in hand, she's usually the most accessible person in Panem. Perhaps she's out.

The post on the stairs takes a lot longer to fix than I thought. I thought it might just need a bit of glue and that'll be it but it seems to be a couple of centimetres shorter than the others. In a fit of frustration, I pull it out and spend the rest of the day sawing off a suitable looking branch from a sapling in Mother's garden and filing it down to fit in the gap. It's four o'clock by the time I leave for town.

I take my tool bag in case things need fixing. I think about the rug at the bottom of the stairs, the rug that hides my uncle's blood.

When I get to town and cross the square I notice there are a few more people here than there are normally, I'm guessing because of the 'special broadcast'. Mrs Lund is stood outside her shop, leaning against the doorframe. A dark-haired young man is standing tall next to her, Geraint. He's filled out an awful lot since I last saw him!

Mrs Lund waves at me and nudges her son who waves begrudgingly back with a bandaged hand. I wonder what happened.

I feel uncomfortable with their eyes on me so I push through the crowd towards the butchers.

There are three Peacekeepers standing in the doorway, staring up at the blank TV screen in the square. One of them is Iberio, and he is the first one to notice me.

"Thought you'd be along here eventually," he says, but his face doesn't have a hint of humour in it. In fact he looks disappointed, like he's just lost a bet.

"Well here I am." I hold out my hands. "Ta da! Now if you'll excuse me," I try to push past them, searching for the key in my tool bag.

"Can't let you through Johanna," Iberio pushes me gently back.

"Is that your new motto?" I stand with my hands on my hips. "Why not?!"

The other two Peacekeepers raise their guns.

"You haven't got the right licence," one of them tells me with a stern voice.

"It's in process. My family own this shop so by rights I should be allowed to let myself in whenever I want," I spit.

People are starting to look at me again.

"Continue on with your lives people!" I yell at them, waving them away.

Iberio drops his gun to one side and holds out his hands.

"I'm asking you nicely Miss Mason. Take a walk back home and wait until your licence comes through. We'll be happy to escort you inside once you have the paperwork."

Behind me the Capitol fanfare starts up. A part of me still wants to automatically look skyward, afraid of whose face I might see up there.

'It's just the special broadcast,' I reassure myself. Caesar Flickerman's voice greets the massed audience and I keep my steely gaze on Iberio and his colleagues. Maybe I could rush past them while they're distracted.

The rest of the town is gazing up, open mouthed, at the big screen as pictures of Katniss prancing around in wedding dresses. Yes the star-crossed lovers are finally tying the knot and the Capitol citizens are voting on their favourite of Cinna's designs for the fairytale dress. In a reflection on the window of the screen I see a shot of Cinna's face. My stomach goes a little fluttery at the familiarity of it. Or maybe it's more than familiarity.

Iberio isn't distracted like the rest. His eyes are firmly on me.

"Let me in," I hiss at him.

"No," he hisses back.

"Do I have to show you all the lovely tools/potential weapons I have in here?" I jingle the tool bag, trying to make it look threatening when actually all I have is a mallet, a couple of screwdrivers, a file and a tube of glue.

"Do I have to show you what happens to people who threaten Peacekeepers?" He nods towards the whipping post that has taken pride of place in the middle of the square.

"Thanks for giving me the warning, I hear not many of you guys are issuing it anymore," I snort.

It's true, that post has seen more than its share of blood in the past few months. There have been rumours that District 11 was just the start. Last month, the Victors' Village was presented with a larger than normal ration of firewood. Blight noticed that there was less coal. Something must've happened in District 12 too.

"Sound more thankful then." Iberio's face darkens. He leans in towards me and whispers in my ear. "Don't test them Johanna. A boy died in the healers arms last week, just do as you're told."

The Capitol anthem starts up again behind me. Must be the end of the broadcast. If I can't get into the shop, I might as well wait here for Joey to come out of school.

When I turn around, instead of a bustling scene of people heading on home or back to work, I see them all still staring at the screen.

President Snow is taking to the stage followed by a sweet looking boy in a fancy suit.

"What's this?" I whisper to myself.

"Quarter Quell announcement," Iberio replies.

"But its months away!"

Someone in the crowd shushes me. I think it might have been one of the other Peacekeepers.

The boy has in his hands a wooden box. It's all very ceremonial.

"I wonder if the twist this year will be that only Peacekeepers get reaped," I smirk.

"Keep talking like that and I'll put you on that whipping post myself," Iberio says without taking his eyes away from the announcement.

"Not on the first date thank you."

Out of the corner of my eye I see a tiny little smile flicker across his face. I can't help but share it.

President Snow is doing an enormously boring speech about the history of the Hunger Games, like we don't already know. He also pours out the sad, sad stories of the other Quarter Quells and how we deserved everything that came to us of course.

"Don't you feel chastised? I feel chastised," I announce.

Across the way I see Geraint hide a chuckle behind his injured hand. Will he be eligible for Reaping this year?

A Peacekeeper raises his gun as if to hit me with the butt of it but Iberio puts his hand out to stop him.

"She's just shooting her mouth off, no one's listening to her," he tells him in a low voice that I'm sure only we three can hear.

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell," Snow says in that awfully ominous voice as he reaches into the wooden box filled with hundreds of years worth of predetermined Quarter Quell 'rules'.

He drags out the tension in the moment, slowly sliding open the flap of the envelope. You could hear a pin drop right now in the square. Every single person gathered here is holding his or her breath. Will it mean they, who are now safe, will become vulnerable, or will they lose twice as many children or neighbours?

Snow reads out the contents on the card.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female Tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of Victors."

In the crowd someone gasps.

Why? What does he mean 'existing pool of Victors'?

People are starting to look at me. Why _are _they staring like that?! I want to scream at them—then it occurs to me.

Tributes, reaped from, Victors.

Me.

Mrs Lund is clutching her chest fearfully.

Geraint's eyes are on the floor.

That old man is holding his jaw as if it might fall off if he let go.

That girl has tears in her eyes.

Someone sniffs.

Someone whispers.

Everyone's looking at me to see how I'm going to react.

One male Tribute, One female Tribute reaped from the existing pool of Victors. Victors from District 7: Egor Applewood, Blight Eriksson and Johanna Mason. Two potential male Tributes, one potential female Tribute.

I am definitely going back to the Capitol as a District 7 Tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games.

I start to giggle.

Snow said he has a plan for me.

My giggle turns into a laugh.

I would have just stood there laughing manically at my astounded audience if the Peacekeeper who'd wanted to hit me hadn't piped up.

"Don't you feel chastised?" he says smugly.

I see Iberio wince in slow motion because I've already twisted around him and punched his gun-toting partner in the face.

He drags me away from the crowd and throws me to the floor.

"You better get out of here Miss Mason."

I don't need telling twice.

I run. I run as fast as I can until my lungs feel like they might explode. I drop to the ground and rake my fingers through the grass, tearing it out in a rage. _Not_ again, _never_ again! I won't do it. I won't go back. They can't make me!

My chest still heaving I let out a single terrible, bloodcurdling scream.

When there's no more air left inside me, I clamber to my feet and carry on stumbling home.

Will Mother have seen the announcement? Will I lose her again? Will she comfort me now like I desperately need her to?

I almost crawl up the steps to my house. There's no sign of life in Blight's house and Egor doesn't come to meet me when I push open the door.

"Mother?" She's not sat at the table in the kitchen.

"Mother?" She's not in the living room, although the television is on.

'Perhaps she's upstairs in the bath fully dressed again', I think dreadfully. I'm so sure that I've lost her again that when I do find her it hits me like a knife in the chest.

"Oh Mom," I breathe.

My Mother is gently swinging, a thick rope in a loop around her neck. The other end tied to the post at the top of the stairs that I'd just fixed that morning.

My heart finally drops through my stomach and I have to turn and run to the kitchen where I vomit, just once, into the sink.


	73. A Really Bad Day

**Chapter Seventy-Three- A Really Bad Day **

What will I do? What can I do? What will we do?

_We_, Little Joey! He'll be on his way home. I can't let him come home and see her like that! All blue and cold and...

I can't bear it and throw up again.

Come on Johanna suck it up! Come on! Just cut her down. You're a Victor damn it! You've done worse.

I grab a pair of kitchen scissors and clumsily stumble towards her body.

"Come on Johanna!" I moan again through gritted teeth.

A cynical, spiteful voice in my head interjects,

'Remember Jo-Jo, you're going to have to do this and worse. You're going back into the arena again aren't you? What are you going to do this time hmm? Now everyone knows you, you can't pull that 'weepy princess' act! You'll be targeted from the moment the gong goes.'

I hate this voice. I hate what it's saying and that it's the truth. I am going to have to go back and I can't be the princess again. I can't be the princess now. I can't be the princess anymore.

I climb the stairs slowly, never looking further up than the next step ahead of me. It's only when I get to the top that I realise that if I cut the rope, she'll fall down. I can't let her fall like a rag doll. I need help.

Blight takes a long time to answer the door, then when he does he absolutely reeks.

"Happy Hunger Games fellow Tribute!" Blight blurts out, swaying from side to side.

"You saw then," I croak.

"Of course I did! The whole of Panem saw Johanna!" He bangs a fist on the doorframe and for the first time since the announcement I realise that I'm not the only one it effects. Blight and Egor are up for the chop too.

I shake the thoughts out of my head and try to gulp down the quiver in my voice.

"I need help."

"You and me both sister." He pulls a bottle seemingly out of nowhere and takes a large swig from it.

"No, now. I need your help now, over at mine."

"Why? You getting rid of a body?" he chortles drunkenly.

My face says it all. He drops the bottle to the floor with a smash.

"Damn it, who have you killed?"

My eyes immediately flood with tears against my better judgement and I ball my fists into my eye sockets in an effort to get control of myself again.

Blight looks uncomfortable. He holds out his arms as if he's going to take me into them...then decides against it and swings his hands together in a loud clap.

"Let's take a look then." He leads the way back to my house and notices my mother a lot sooner than I did.

"You want me to cut her down and you brace her, or the other way around?"

I think it's for the best that he doesn't handle any sharp objects in the state he's in so I pick up the scissors again and climb the stairs.

The awful truth is that the scissors won't cut through the thick rope. I have to find a big knife and then saw at it until it frays and my mother's body slumps into Blights unsteady arms. I sink to the ground and sit on the top stair, my head in my hands, just staring.

Blight carries Mother into the living room and then comes to sit with me.

"I don't know what to say," he looks down at his hands.

"Then don't say anything," I reply curtly.

"I called the Funeral Home, they're sending someone to come and collect her as soon as they can."

"Great."

"I think your mother had the right idea you know" he sighs. "I can't go back Johanna."

"Well they're sure as heck going to try and make you," I say blankly. "At least you've got a fifty-fifty chance of staying safe."

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe I won't get picked, maybe I'll just sit quietly while an elderly man that I've known for thirty years goes instead of me. Oh wait, but I'm the only Mentor so I have to watch the two of you die from the comfort of The Hub knowing there's nothing I can do."

"Would you volunteer if Egor was reaped then?" My eyes get their focus back and study his face carefully.

"I don't know. It would be easy to be brave and say yes but I don't know. You know what it's like when you're stood there and they've read the name and the silence falls, you feel like you should say something but your voice just won't work, your hand won't raise."

"We'd have a better chance of surviving as a team if it was you." My voice is quivering again. I can't believe I'm having a survival conversation again!

"And you think we'd stand a damned chance with Egor as our Mentor?!"

"You said it yourself that you can't do anything from The Hub. At least he'd be in plain sight and safe. How long ago did you call the Funeral Home?"

Blight takes a look up at the grandfather clock that stands at the bottom of the stairs.

"I called them at about half five so…twenty minutes ago."

I jump to my feet, another sick feeling seizing my stomach.

"It's almost six o'clock! Where's Joey? Why isn't he home yet?"

"He'll be back soon, don't worry. Maybe he bumped into Egor on the way home." At least I think that's what Blight's saying as I'm kicking past him on the stairs, throwing my coat back around me.

"If he comes back while I'm out, don't let him go into the living room!" I call behind me as I go to the door.

When I fling it open there is already someone on the doorstep.

It's not Joey but the face I see is enough to take my breath away.

Dirty blonde hair. Freckles. Small for her age.

My gasp makes single word, "Hetty?"

"No." She's out of breath; she must have run all the way here from town. "Harriet…well Hatty, Hetty was my sister."

Has she come to laugh in my face because I'm going back in?

"My mother is the healer, it's your brother. Some Peacekeepers got him on the way home from school."

"What?" No! No! This can't be happening! "What do you mean some Peacekeepers 'got him'? Is he ok?"

"I don't know, I came straight here."

"Take me there now."

Adrenaline batters at my limbs urging them to break into a run again but I have to stay with Hatty, she's already run one journey and I can't find my way without her.

She leads me to a tiny little house just outside the town on the edge of the forest. In the distance I can hear that the work teams are back on the job.

"In here," Hatty opens the front door and ushers me inside.

Sat in a wooden armchair beside a smouldering fire is Iberio.

When he sees me he is on his feet immediately. His usually crisp white uniform is stained rusty brown and he's sporting a fat lip.

"Johanna…" he starts but I pounce on him, beating at his chest with my fists.

"What have you done?! What have you done to him?! I'll kill you!" I scream.

His armour is hurting my hands more than my punches will be hurting him but someone still pulls me away so I start kicking out instead.

One of the healer's nephews, the large one who came to help with Egor, has me in his arms in almost a complete body bind.

"She's a lively one," I hear him mutter to his brother as I continue to try to writhe out of his grip, still screaming at Iberio.

Eventually I run out of steam and collapse in a heap.

"Is she done?" The healer is standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. "He heard her screaming up a storm and now won't relax until he sees her."

"He's ok?" I dare to breathe.

Hatty takes me by the hand and helps me up. She takes me into the antiseptic-smelling bedroom where I can see someone sleeping on a mattress in the corner. My little brother, my tiny little brother is lying in an enormous bed beside the window. He's propped up on several pillows, making him look like the filling in a dull grey cotton sandwich.

"Joey! Are you ok? Are you ok?" I crouch down next to the bed and stroke his hair back from his face.

He's black and blue. Bruises everywhere, it's hard to distinguish his facial features.

"Ow," he moans. "My hair hurts, stop it."

"Sorry, sorry!" I immediately stop brushing back his hair. "I'm just so glad you're alive!" I hold his hand and kiss it over and over.

"He has a bruised metacarpal too," the healer adds. I assume this to mean hand so I quickly replace it to the bed.

"I won't touch, I promise!" I sit on my hands. "What happened Joey? Who do I need to kill?"

"No one, it's my fault," he whispers.

"I sincerely doubt that."

"I…fell."

"Oh really? Because there's a bloody Peacekeeper outside and the nice girl that came to get me said you'd been jumped by some of our shiny uniformed friends."

"Did you see the announcement?" he asks, his eyes suddenly afraid. I have to work hard to resist the urge to brush my fingers through his hair again.

"Yeah but don't worry about that. Just relax and get better."

"But you're going to go—"

"I'm not going anywhere ok? I'm going to be right here."

The healer puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Joseph needs rest now, and I have other patrons," she gestures to the body on the mattress.

"Ok, I'll be right through there," I point at the door. "The whole time."

"And Mother?"

My breath catches in my throat.

"I'll be right through there, the whole time." I can't tell him. Not yet.

The healer sees me to the door and before I go back out into the living room I catch her arm.

"I'm so sorry about Het—"

She raises a finger to silence me.

"It's not your fault. You didn't pick her. I know you probably did everything you could. She was headstrong, wouldn't take advice from anyone if she'd already made up her mind."

"That sounds familiar…"

"I'll take care of him, don't you worry about me exacting some sort of revenge or anything. After the announcement today I'd say you've got enough to worry about dear."

Yeah, and don't forget the dead mother in my living room.

As soon as I leave the bedroom, the healer's nephews stand up as if they might need to restrain me again. I see why.

Iberio is still here.

"It's ok." He motions for them to sit down again. "If she wants to hit me, she can hit me."

"Looks like someone else already got there first," I nod at his lip and slump down on another hard, wooden chair.

"That would be your little brother," he says, flicking his tongue over the injury and grimacing.

"No way, you're what…six-two? He'd never be able to land a blow like that, he's a tiny baby compared to you!"

"Not that tiny and pretty heavy too. I was restraining him." He seems to feel comfortable enough that I'm not going to attack him again and settles back down into his seat.

"Why?"

"After you wailed on Gruber, he went on a bit of a warpath. He tried to chase you down but you were gone like a rat up a drainpipe. He must've bumped into your brother on the way home. Started shouting that your brother had assaulted him, which of course he hadn't. Then your brother's friend started yelling a load of rebel stuff and pulled a knife."

"Ash…" I sag inward, I knew that boy would get Joey in trouble.

"Gruber shot him. Hit him in the shoulder though because Joey jumped on him. I grabbed him in case Gruber threw him off, got this for my trouble." He makes a circular motion over his face. "I drop him, Gruber gets a hold of him, throws him on the floor and just keeps stamping on him."

"It's my fault then." I rub my temples with my fingers. "If I hadn't pissed Gruber off…"

"No, if your brother's heroic friend had just kept his mouth shut and hadn't pulled a weapon on a Peacekeeper, then we'd all be tucked up at home by now."

"Is he…Ash I mean…is he alright?"

Iberio tips his head at the door.

"He's in there too."

He must've been the one on the mattress on the floor.

"He won't be there long though will he?" I raise my eyebrows and Iberio shakes his head sadly.

"No, they'll come for him. He had a weapon. Child or not, they're going to punish him."

"Why do you say 'they' you're one of them you know! Check out the armour, it's a big clue." I roll my eyes.

The clock on the wall reads almost seven o'clock. I wonder if Mother's been picked up yet. There are no phones outside of the Victors' Village so I can't call Blight to find out, but I promised Joey that I'd be here. I've got to prioritise the living over the dead now.

"My mother killed herself," I say, for no particular reason. It just falls out of my mouth.

"Oh…I'm so sorry Johanna," Iberio's face shows such pity that I can't look at it anymore.

"Why are you even here?" I spit. This is a rapid mood swing even for me. "You're not being treated so why are you hanging around?"

"I…er…I brought the boys in and I…I don't know I guess I just stayed until you got here…" he stammers, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Well I'm here now so thanks but bye."

Iberio stares at me for a single beat and then silently collects up his helmet and his gun and soundlessly leaves the house.

"That was harsh," one of the nephews says. "The other guy shot at him you know, when he was bringing your brother and his friend in."

"He's not bad him. I was late for my shift at the mill so I climbed the fence and cut across the rail line. There were…three guns trained on me but I explained and he walked with me and told the foreman that I had been helping with the investigation into the black market meat. Poor Geraint nearly sliced his hand off."

So that's what happened to Geraint's hand then, poor guy.

"He's not bad for a District 2-er."

"District Seconder?"

"Second District-er?"

"Guys!" My head is pounding. "Can we have some quiet time?"

We sit together in silence for about half an hour until the healer comes out of the bedroom and sends her nephews home.

"I don't know why you think you're going to get an extra meal here, off you go you cheeky things," she scolds.

Hatty starts brewing something over the fireplace. It reminds me of before we moved to the Victors' Village, there's a familiar smell from the fire and sound of a pot bubbling over.

Hatty offers me a bowl of watery stew but I turn it down. It wouldn't be right for me to take food out of their mouths when I have cupboards full to bursting at home. I'll ask Blight to bring some over with some money to pay back the Moss family. I'm just not sure how I'm going to get a message to Blight. Maybe Hatty will run one for me tomorrow.

I do take a bowl through for Joey though when he wakes up.

We chat a little while I try to avoid any subjects that include Mother, and Ash wakes up for the healer to bring him some stew. I don't look at him. It's reassuring that I notice even Joey looks uncomfortable. I think Ash's little stunt has thrown him and their friendship apart.

The healer doses the both of them up with a concoction made with a mortar and pestle at around eight-thirty and they are both out of it by nine.

She offers me a diluted version of it to help me sleep on some cushions that Hatty's laid out on the hard chairs pushed together.

"It's not going to be a comfortable night for you if you don't," she tells me.

"No thank you, I'm used to not sleeping well. I…err don't like being doped up either," I tell her, rearranging the cushions on the floor instead.

Hatty and her mother look at me funny.

"I have nightmares, I wouldn't want to break your chairs."

Mrs Moss pauses at the bottom of the stairs to tell me that her husband might be letting himself in during the early hours of the morning. It depends on how long it takes him and his crew to load the export train.

I nod in acknowledgment and bid her goodnight. Hatty is to sleep in the room with the patients to watch over them while her mother rests.

It's only twenty minutes or so after I've said goodnight to the Mosses that there's a soft tapping on the door. Too early to be Mr Moss isn't it?

I quietly go to the door, mindful of any creaky floorboards. I hope it's not the Peacekeepers here for Ash already.

I open the door a crack to see who it is. It's a stranger in a dark green cotton shirt and long thick grey pants. No coat or gloves or hat. He's surely come to see the healer about some sort of mental affliction. It's freezing cold.

"I've brought you some soup."

"Iberio? What are you doing here?" I'm in awe of how different he looks out of his uniform.

"I…I thought I said, maybe I didn't say it out loud: I've brought you some soup. Have you already eaten?" He's holding out a plastic flask that is softly steaming from under the lid.

"No I haven't actually but I—"

He cuts me off.

"I knew you wouldn't have. So here…" He thrusts it towards me and I am forced to take it in my hands to stop it hitting me in the chest. "I made it myself so I'm making no promises about its quality but it's warm and there's a tiny ration of chicken stock in it."

I look down at the flask. It feels lovely in my hands, which are cold even from the crack in the door. I must be letting the cold into the house. I step outside and close the door behind me, thinking of the patients in the other room.

"Why have you done this?" I whisper.

"My parents were in a cave-in in District 2, my Dad died straight away but they pulled my mother out alive. She was completely paralysed for about a year and then one day my brother and I came back from school and she was lying on the floor in front of her chair. The healer thought she might have had a fit and err… choked on her own vomit." He looks embarrassed as he tells me. There's that flush in his cheeks from earlier.

"I'm sor—" I start but he holds up his hand.

"I'm not telling you this to make you sorry for me, I'm just saying that I know what it's like to have to 'parent a parent' and then have them slip away despite everything. My brother and I signed up to the Peacekeeper Academy to get the money to pay for her wheelchair, now both of us are in service for the next twenty years and we have no one to go back to at home. I don't even know where my brother is."

I can't help it. It's beyond my control. I don't know why I do it but I grab a handful of his green shirt and pull him towards me, our lips colliding.

When we part, both panting a little, I hold him at arms length.

"I didn't expect that to happen," he says, tenderly touching his sore lip.

"Me either," I reply, frowning. "No offence but you've kind of been present at two of the worst things to happen to me in my life."

"They both happened today?"

"It's been a really bad day. Listen…" I give him an awkward pat on the chest. "Wow, that's muscley, like punching armour." This time I'm the one blushing. "Listen…err…thanks for the soup, I've got a lot on my mind right now. I'll… I'll see you around sometime."

He's nodding but his eyes are focussed on my lips. He bats my hand out of the way and puts his own on my lower back, pulling me into his hard, toned body, crushing our lips together again. This kiss lasts a little longer than the first and my fingers find their way up to his hairline.

It feels good, taking comfort in him like this. I could quite easily forget about all of today, just let myself get swept away by my hormones, but then I'd wake up tomorrow and feel a hundred times worse because I've let Joey down by not being here for him.

But, before I have chance to push Iberio away again, he pulls back and puts one hand to the back of his neck, right where my fingers had been.

"Sorry, I've wanted to do that for three years, I couldn't stop at just one. I'll see you around."

My stomach knots up at his words and I want even more to hide from my problems with him.

"Iberio…" I call softly into the dark before he gets too far.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for helping Joey."

He tips an imaginary hat and disappears into the night.


	74. An Empty Shell

**Chapter Seventy-Four- An Empty Shell**

I spend most of the night shivering on the floor of the healer's living room. Just after midnight I hear someone in the other room cry out. I'm on my feet in seconds, pressing my ear to the door. Is it Joey? Is he crying for me? Or our dead Mother?

There are no more sounds until Mr Moss comes home at ten minutes to three in the morning. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see me. He must see his share of strangers sleeping on his floor.

I decline the offer of breakfast and stand at the door to the bedroom, waiting to be allowed in.

No sooner have I got in than I'm called out again.

"There's someone at the door for you Johanna," Hatty tells me.

I groan and tell Joey that I'll be right back.

To my surprise it's Blight and Egor. Blight's got three boxes stacked on top of each other so he can hardly see where he's going and Egor has in his hand a brown paper bag.

"A Peacekeeper told me you might want these." Blight drops the boxes on one of the chairs and I tear them open while Egor goes to sit with Joey.

Cans of peas, packets of minced meat, pots of cream. I can see Hatty salivating as I go through it all.

"Please, take them." I hold the boxes out to her and her mother.

They look unsure, not wanting to accept charity I assume.

"As payment for taking care of my stupid, brave brother and silly, stressed old me."

They share a look, almost as if they're talking to each other psychically. Finally the healer nods and Hatty accepts my gifts. When we go back in to see Joey, the healer worries that his face has swollen up drastically…until we discover the five boiled sweets he's hiding in his cheeks.

I order him to spit them out into my hand and throw a dirty look at Egor.

"You don't know what Mrs Moss is giving you, what if some of your medicine reacts badly with too much sugar hmm?"

Mrs Moss reassures me that he's in no danger of a sweet overdose so I let him have them back, one at a time. The last thing I need now is for him to choke on one.

The Peacekeepers come for Ash on the fifth day. Iberio doesn't look at me as he follows the men carrying the boy.

For two weeks I sleep on the Moss family's floor while Joey recovers.

Exactly fourteen days after the Quarter Quell announcement the healer says that she'll get her nephews to get the cart and Joey and I can go home, providing he stays in bed for 23 hours a day and only leaves it to walk to a chair in his room and back again.

"After a week of that, he can start moving around the house more and more. Nice and gently though, don't let him go rushing around."

A big smile on my face, I go in to tell my brother that we're going home. I still haven't told him about Mother but he hasn't asked again since that one time.

He gets very excited and bounces in his bed, hugging the blanket. He permits me to kiss him on the top of the head. The bruises are going yellow now and aren't as painful anymore.

The nephews arrive with the cart.

The healer goes to let them in and I tell Joey that the cart is just outside. Before I can stop him, he swings his legs out of the bed and falls straight to the floor.

"Joey!" I cry, grabbing for him as he crumples.

Hatty and Mrs Moss come running.

"I'm ok! I'm ok!" he insists as the three of us help him up. "I just…"

"Forgot how to use your legs?" I offer.

"Yeah…" He sucks in a pained breath.

"Are you alright? What's the matter?"

"My tummy hurts…" His legs go out from under him again and he vomits bright red blood onto the floor.

"He's got internal bleeding," Hatty yelps. "Get him back on the bed!"

"What? Internal bleeding from falling out of bed?!" I screech.

"He might have opened up a wound we didn't know he had, go into the other room Johanna," Mrs Moss says firmly, pulling up Joey's shirt to take a look at his abdomen.

"No, I want to help!"

"You can't, go into the other room."

"No!"

Mrs Moss takes in a deep breath and hollers for her nephews to come and wrestle me out again. I really fight dirty this time, biting and scratching at anything that comes near me.

Eventually the two of them have a hold of both my arms and legs and I'm strung up between them.

"He's in the best place for it to have happened," the big one says, trying to reassure me.

"Yeah, if it had happened at home he'd've been all that way away from help."

"Oh shut up dumb-asses!" I seethe.

They eventually put me down when they decide that I'm all burned out and I just sit there on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chin, staring at the door.

What can they do? If he's bleeding on the inside, there's nothing they could do! If this was the Capitol then they'd probably have some sort of laser that would just fix everything but here…to fix something on the inside surely they'd have to _go_ _to the inside_…

There's nothing they can do. Any minute now they're going to come to the door and tell me that there was nothing they could do.

It takes ten minutes of chanting that in my head before the healer appears at the door.

"There was nothing we could do…"

I scream. I scream loud and long.

I push the nephews out of the way and crash back into the bedroom.

He's lying on the bed still, just like he was ten minutes ago. His eyes are open though and that's what breaks me. They're glassy and staring at the wall, nothing of my brother left in them. A minute ago he was bouncing in excitement and now he's just an empty shell.

I sit back down in the chair beside his bed and take his hand again. This time there's no pained wince or embarrassed cringe.

The tears come and oh boy do they flow. I silently cry and cry and cry. I cry for the life he'll never have. I cry because I couldn't save him. I cry because I'm alone now.

I think people come and go, some of them speak to me but I don't hear them. Their words are just inaudible muffled sounds and I can't distinguish one voice from another. I want to be where he is. I bet it's peaceful there. No voices, muffled or otherwise. I bet it's good and fair and happy. I want to be dead too. Just like I did on that rooftop all those months ago. If I had done it then my mother wouldn't have killed herself because she was afraid of me coming back a killer again, and Gruber wouldn't have wanted to take his frustration out on my brother. They'd both be alive.

More people arrive, I think one of them might be Blight. They sound like they are talking underwater, and then Joey moves. He tugs his hand out of mine and I snap out of my bubble.

"He's moving!" I shriek. "He's moving!"

A pair of hands clamp onto my shoulders and a voice, I can't remember who it belongs to, says gently,

"The undertaker is here to collect him."

"What?! No! No!" I scrape the tears out of my eyes and reach back for his hand, desperately calling for him to come back. "Give him back to me!" I start to climb over the bed to claw him out of the undertaker's arms.

"Mother!" a young voice calls. "Blight was right, we are going to need it!"

Something scratches at my bicep and suddenly the world goes a bit fuzzy.

"Give him back," I slur, my tongue and lips all of a sudden feeling numb.

My legs give out as well. What is happening?! I pull myself across the floor with my hands until they too stop answering my commands. I'm lying on my front, reaching out towards the door as some stranger takes what's left of my baby brother away from me.

Someone, probably one of the nephews again, picks me up and _then_ I lose consciousness.

When I wake up I'm staring at a familiar ceiling. I'm back in my bed in the Victors' Village. I feel sluggish and my head aches fiercely but I use what little energy I have to push back the bedclothes and roll out of bed. I totter across the floor to the mirror. Someone's dressed me in a mid-length yellow cotton nightdress and tied my hair back in a low, tufty braid. I really hope it wasn't Blight.

There's the sound of movement downstairs and I can smell something cooking. Perhaps Joey's frying bacon, it must be Saturday he always does bacon sandwiches for breakfast on Saturdays. There's a female voice and a male voice. Egor and Mother probably laying the table. Any minute now Mother will come upstairs to force me out of bed to come and join the family for breakfast. I clamber back into bed to wait for her, pulling the sheets up over my head so she can't see that I'm already awake.

There are her footsteps, I'll wait until she's a couple of steps away and then I'll throw back the bed sheets and surprise her. I push my fist into my mouth to keep myself from giggling in anticipation, just like when I was a child.

"Johanna, are you awake?" she calls. I'm about to jump up but a hand touches my shoulder and pulls away the sheet.

I start awake with a gasp.

Egor gasps as well.

"Sorry I was just fluffing your pillow for you," he apologises. "I really didn't mean to wake you, I was just trying to help."

He looks tired, the age-defined lines under his eyes have turned purple and he looks more drawn than usual.

"It's ok, it's ok," I rasp. My throat is dry and I feel incredibly thirsty. I sniff the air. What happened to the bacon? "Where's Joey?" I ask.

And then it all comes screaming back to me. Joey stomped on by a Peacekeeper, unidentified internal bleeding reopened by a fall, Mother swinging from the banister, Tributes reaped from their existing pool of Victors, a scratch and then everything going strange.

"_Blight was right! We are going to need it!"_ Hatty had cried. They drugged me! They drugged me and Blight told them to do it!

"Where's Blight?" I growl at Egor.

"In town," he tells me, a little fearfully.

"How long was I out of it?"

"About 25 hours I think, at least that's how long ago they brought you here."

I try sitting up but instantly feel woozy and slink down again. Feeling weak and pathetic I cover my head with the newly fluffed up pillow and moan.

"You're not the only one that has lost them you know," he says. "They were my friends."

"Oh I'm _sooo_ sorry for your loss," I spit spitefully. I hear him sigh and then leave the room. Good. He should go home anyway. I'm not having him burn down my house as well, vacuous coot.

Mind you, if he did burn down the house I'd probably just stay here. Maybe die of smoke inhalation, that'd be nice.

The phone rings downstairs. It rings for ages and ages but Egor doesn't pick it up, even after I've screamed down at him to shut it up.

After a couple of hours I hear Blight's voice downstairs but he doesn't come up, even after I've screamed at him that I'm going to kill him. That's probably why he doesn't come up.

Hatty comes round to check on me just as the sun is going down.

"Egor said that I must be brave coming up here to talk to you," she tells me as she helps me out of bed and into a chair. "How are you feeling?"

"A little hungover thanks," I sneer.

"Yeah? It's probably because you've been without any water for over a day. Here, drink this." She passes me a glass of water that's been on my bedside table all day.

I watch her remake my bed for me and then she helps me back in.

"I'm really sorry about Joey, about them taking him away like that but Mother said the longer you sat with him, the harder it would be to leave him. You were with him for four hours. We tried everything to get through to you. One of my cousins even went to get that Peacekeeper because he thought you might want to attack him again." She giggles but I don't even crack a smile. I probably won't ever smile again I've decided.

She gives me instructions to drink plenty of water and get some sleep. She'll come to check on me in the morning.

Overnight I soak my pillows with tears again until I've cried out any water that I've manage to put inside me. I cry until I'm nothing but an empty shell, just like that body swinging from the stairs and just like the eyes staring at the wall.

As the sun rises an idea comes to me. I'd pondered just running a few months before when Mother and Joey didn't come to the station after the 74th Games.

I gingerly step out of bed and float down the hall, past Joey's empty room, down the stairs and out of the front door. I cross the Green and enter the forest. I think I see a movement in the window of the house next to Egor's but nobody comes to see where I'm going first thing in the morning in just my pyjamas. Nobody sees that there's nothing left of me.

The earth feels good beneath my bare feet and I pull my hair loose from the ponytail Hatty had put it in last night.

I take in a deep breath of cold, fresh air and I feel right, like what I'm doing is the right thing. As if by divine sign it begins to snow again. Tiny, little flakes swoop and swirl down to land on my outstretched hands as I start my journey into the depths of the woods. I'll go as far as I can before Peacekeepers or death stops me.


	75. Shining Armour

**Chapter Seventy-Five- Shining Armour**

The cold is nice. It makes me numb and then that's all I can think about. Occasionally a pair of glassy eyes or dangling legs comes to mind but then I remember that I can't feel my toes.

I walk past my tree house village without a second look. It was silly, a childish venture. Deeper and deeper I go. The forest is alive around me, I can feel it. Birds sing in the trees ready to start a busy day. A fox darts into its den after a busy night. Worms beneath my feet cause the earth to vibrate. Except my feet are numb so I shouldn't be able to feel it and the fox should be hibernating.

I brush my fingers across the rough bark of a nearby tree and it feels soft, furry even.

Great I'm tripping again.

The birds above me start drumming out a rhythmic beat. One, two, one, two, one, two. I count with them in a whisper, the warm air whooshing out of my mouth in bursts of condensation. I keep walking. The beats get louder and I finally realise what they are.

"Mockingjays," I growl. I must be near a work team. I've had enough of damned mockingjays so I veer away.

They follow me though, so I break into a run.

After a few steps, as my blood starts pumping, the feeling comes back to my feet and it hurts! It's like I'm stepping on a thousand hot knives. I cry out and it echoes through the trees. When the echo comes back to my ears it sounds more like a laugh. A laugh that splits into two, then three, then four. It's Snow, laughing at me. He must have known. He must have known that I'd definitely be going back in. But the jokes on him because now I have no one left for him to threaten. There's no one left for me to protect, I'm going to die in the woods before he can touch me. Now who's laughing!

It's still the trees. They're guffawing like a bunch of inbred idiots. Can trees be inbred? I don't know.

There's a round of loud bangs, gunshots perhaps, and the trees stop. So do the mockingjays.

One of the trees says,

"What are you staring at? Keep going, none of us get to go home until you're done you know!" It has a familiar voice.

Another tree, a little closer to me, weighs in,

"Shall we take her in? Might be trying to escape?"

The first one replies tartly,

"She's in her pyjamas where do you think she's going to go? There are no sleepover parties in The Wildlands. I'll get her, you make sure they get back to work."

I keep walking but there are heavy crunches following me. I guess a tree _would_ make heavy sounds when it moves.

"Where are you going to go?" the tree calls to me.

"Nowhere," I whisper in reply.

"Then wait up and I'll come too."

Silly tree.

"There's no trees allowed where I'm going," I tell it firmly.

"I thought you were going nowhere."

It's very close behind me now. Trees move quicker than I thought. I try to turn to take a look at this walking, talking tree but my numb feet get tangled up and I lurch forwards with my hands out.

The tree grabs me from behind and steadies me against its hard trunk. I take a look down at the branch holding me. It's white, a silver birch maybe? It bows over me, a willow? Then it blows warm air against my cheek... No I don't know any trees that do that.

"You're freezing, here."

Something heavy drops around my shoulders. The white branches disappear and are replaced by flesh coloured ones. I'm all white now and I recognise the voice.

"Why is it always you?" I sigh.

"Why do you keep finding me?" Iberio replies, resting his cheek against my right temple. "What are you doing out here hmm?"

"Haven't you heard? There's no one left to ground me so I'm out after curfew."

"In the snow, in your pyjamas, barefoot?"

"It's a party," I say flatly.

"Well can we move the party somewhere inside before you lose your feet, I mean there's cutting footloose and then there's just being silly."

I don't react so he sweeps me up into his arms and starts walking.

"Now I know you're not ok, that footloose thing was comedy gold."

"Why are you so nice to me?" I mumble. "I killed your Tributes."

"Three years ago, I've gotten over it."

"Granite and Chantal, I pretend I don't remember their names but I do. All of them. Did you know them?"

"I did, they were idiots. Granite did a few Peacekeeper classes with me. I think he volunteered for The Hunger Games to get out of his contract. You get an allowance every year while you're training so he took the money and then tried to get out of doing the time. You get double food rations and board wherever you're posted, better than being dead."

"No clothing allowance though?" I pick at a loose thread on the vest he's been wearing under his uniform.

"Don't need one, doomed to wear white for the next 17 years aren't I?"

"How virginal." I let my tired eyes close and he bounces me in his arms.

"Don't go to sleep, we're almost at the healers."

That wakes me up.

"No! No! Not there! I'm not going there! I'm not going to be put in that bed!" I claw at his shoulders, trying to get out of his grip.

"Ok, ok!" he tries to pacify me.

"Just put me down here, just leave me here in the snow!"

"No, you'll freeze to death."

"Exactly! I don't want to go anywhere else. I don't want to go back to that ridiculously big empty house or the healers. Just leave me here to die."

"Well that's not going to happen. You could stay at mine...as long as you don't mind sharing a barracks dorm with twenty men. Do you mind that?"

I don't reply, just glare at the passing scenery.

"You're killing me here Johanna."

"Then just leave me!" I moan. "I didn't ask you to pick me up! I didn't ask you to 'save me'. We kissed once-"

"Twice," he corrects.

"Whatever, it doesn't mean you have to be my knight in shining armour now! Although you do wear very shiny armour."

"It's standard issue."

I try to roll my eyes but I'm too tired to even be sarcastic.

"Just put me down before anybody sees."

"Almost home."

We don't speak again until he climbs the porch steps and opens the front door.

Egor and Hatty both appear from the living room and look relieved.

"Go run her a hot bath," Iberio orders and Hatty scampers upstairs. Egor throws on a coat and says he's going to find Blight who went looking for me.

Now that we're inside I start to shiver right down to my teeth.

Iberio takes me upstairs and asks me which one is my bedroom.

"Oh you'd l-l-l-like that w-w-wouldn't y-y-y-you?" I chatter.

"Yes that's exactly what I would like so that we can get you warm while we wait for your bath."

"Yeah, yeah. That's w-w-what they all s-s-say. 'Ooh I j-j-just want to c-c-c-cuddle, n-now take of your c-c-clothes.'"

Iberio falters and his face shows a flicker of concern before he shakes his head and starts trying doors.

I scream at him when he touches Joey's doorknob.

"It's the third over there, just stop stomping through my house!"

He puts me down on the bed and tucks me in tightly.

"Hopefully your own body heat will warm you up in there," he explains.

"W-w-what body heat?" I'm still convulsing.

It looks like he's about to visibly kick himself when Hatty calls from the bathroom.

"I don't know which of these taps is water!"

"Just try them all!" he shouts back while undoing his armoured pants.

"What are you doing?" I gulp, cowering into a ball.

"Don't worry, _you_ can keep your clothes on." He climbs under the sheets in his vest and long thermal underwear. "Come here, we've got to warm you up enough that the bath isn't too much of a shock."

I don't move, I just study him.

"Look if you're uncomfortable with this then just give me your feet." He reaches out but doesn't grab me or 'accidentally' touch me; he lets me bridge the gap.

I shimmy across and he wraps his arms around me. His top half isn't that much warmer than me but his legs have been under two thick layers so I tuck my feet in between his calves.

"I think you could do it you know," he says softly, pressing a warm hand to my cheek.

"What?"

"Win the Quarter Quell."

"I don't want to talk about that." I bury my face into his shoulder. He smells different. Not salty like Finnick or perfumed like Cinna, sort of mossy, like the dewy forest in spring.

"But you could, you've done it before, what's one more time?"

"Please stop it," I whisper.

"The difference is this time you've got a few months heads up to prepare. I mean I could help you. I don't know how but I could."

"Stop it!" Tears are building again but I refuse to let them fall. "Stop it! There's no way I'm coming back. Have you seen the 'existing pool of Victors'? We're not talking about tricking starving children from the sticks anymore. We're talking about combat with experienced killers! I haven't got a chance!" I gulp to hold in the sob. "And even if by some miracle I do come back, there's no one here for me is there?! Do you really think that's going to give me the motivation to fight for my life?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" says Iberio, his hand finding my cheek again. "I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sorry. You feel warmer though. Here let me look at you." He pulls back and his eyes search my face. "You've got some colour in your cheeks again, that's something."

Our eyes lock together and he apologises again.

"I'm really sorry I just thought…I don't know what I thought really."

Our lips are an inch apart. I feel that same urge from the other night, the urge to just grab him and take comfort in him, switch my brain off and go with the flow.

Our lips are just about to meet when the door bursts open.

"Bath's ready!" Hatty calls. She sees us in the bed together and Iberio's pants on the floor, throws up her hands to her eyes and exclaims "Oh dear! I'm sorry! Sorry!" She backs out again, blindly banging into the doorframe.

Iberio lets his forehead fall to rest against mine, and chuckles.

"I don't know about you but I'm definitely feeling warmer." Then he sighs. "I better go."

I nod. "Ok."

"I'll see you around…" He cups my jaw for a second and then throws back the sheets to get out. I watch him put his padded white uniform pants and boots back on and then realise that I'm still wearing his body armour. I shrug it off and pass it to him to zip up over that holey vest.

He stops at the door, as if he's about to say something but then thinks better of it and salutes me before going out into the hall.

Hatty is just on the other side of the door. She waves to him before coming into my room with her fingers in her mouth, holding back a giggle.

"I'd've put some fancy bubbles in the bath if I'd know it was going to be a _romantic _bath."

"Don't get teenage and giggly, it's not like that. Help me to the bathroom." I sit up, but my feet feel tingly and sore.

"But I am teenage and giggly," Hatty replies, looking like she doesn't believe me.

She helps me to the bath and then helps me step out of my pyjamas and into the tub.

I suck in a pained breath as I slowly sit down in it. My nerves are all waking up and screaming at me for punishing them this way.

"I think he really likes you," Hatty informs me, getting some towels out of the linen closet.

I roll my eyes at her.

"This isn't girly gossip time. This is quiet time."

"You could do a lot worse than him, that's what my mother says."

"Well I'm glad she's involved as well."

"But then I guess we're all pretty ugly compared to the Capitol people, and you hang out with Finnick Odair too don't you? I mean Iberio's hot but…compared to _Finnick Odair! _Hetty and I shared a poster of him. Every night we'd say good night to him like we were having a sleepover with him. We always talked about how we'd marry someone as handsome as Finnick Odair. That gorgeous white smile, bronze hair, and a tan. You don't get many white smiles or much tanned skin here in District 7 though do you?"

I open my mouth to reply but she doesn't let me get a word in.

"No, I'll probably just end up marrying someone who works at the mill with my cousins. Hetty was the pretty one that got all the boys attention. I know, I know but we look the same, but she had something about her that all the boys at school just gravitated to."

"Perhaps the ability to bend over backwards and do a backflip?" I offer.

"Probably something like that," Hatty laughs. "How are you feeling? Do I need to go and get my Mom?"

I wiggle my toes at the edge of the tub.

"Everything still connected and moveable."

"I can see that but how are _you _feeling? I mean if I go home are you going to go wandering again?"

"Didn't really plan it the first time." I duck my head under the water and watch her stand over me with her arms folded. I stay under for as long as my lungs will allow and then burst back up with a gasp.

"You didn't answer my question." She moves her arms from her chest to her hips. "I've got some stuff to sedate you with if you want?"

I think about the dream with Mother coming up the stairs and shake my head vehemently.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. No sedation necessary I swear."

"Ok, well Egor will be back as soon as he's found Blight and then you should get some food in you and get some sleep. Stay in the tub until it cools down to body temperature. I'll be back tomorrow after I've checked on some people in town."

After she's gone I lie back in the tub and listen to the silence of the house. I've been home alone before, and when Mother wasn't talking to me it felt like I was home alone a lot, but now I'm really alone. Not just home alone. Completely alone. Sure I've got Egor and Blight for now but the Quarter Quell has to be playing on their minds too. They're not going to want to keep me company while they too are facing an impeding doom, just like me.

The bath goes cold quickly so I summon the energy to get up and wrap a slightly heated towel around me.

Food, Hatty said.

I go down to the kitchen to see what's still in the cupboards after Blight brought all that stuff to the healers. There's not an awful lot: a half bag of crackers, a bunch of grapes and a jar of jam. I pull out the grapes and take them to the table with me. I sit in my usual seat facing the door so no one can sneak up on me. Beside the door are three sets of boots: Mine, Mother's and Joey's.

I start to cry again. This is ridiculous, surely there are no more tears inside me! I fiercely brush them away as fast as they come but they don't stop. I _need _to stop this! Iberio was right, I could be using this time effectively to be somewhat battle-ready instead of weeping here like a baby. Crying is not going to stop the Peacekeepers coming to get me on Reaping Day.

But there's no point! Who is there to come back to even if I do win?

Doesn't mean you should just lie down and let someone butcher you Johanna! You might not live through it but people are expecting you to make it through the first day at least. You've got a reputation to uphold damn it! It can't hurt to do a bit of training.

Come on pull yourself together! Let's lose this silliness. No more tears. No more pathetic princess-stuff.

I bang my fists on the table and fish out the kitchen scissors. I need to get back in the zone that I was in three years ago. I need to be ruthless. I need to be that girl again and it starts here.

I gather my hair in my hands on the top of my head and snip the scissors right through it, leaving me with a handful of hair and a mismatched cropped hairstyle again.

I'm going to claw back that ferocity. I'm going to be like the sun again and who knows who'll get burnt this time.


	76. Lumberyard Site A

**Chapter Seventy-Six- Lumberyard Site A**

As I'm sat there at the table with my ponytail in my hand, the phone rings. I think about leaving it but the incessant chirping chips away at my resolve and I throw my hair into the trash to go answer it.

"What?" I demand from the receiver.

"Where the hell have you been?! It's Finnick by the way, in case you don't recognise my voice because you've been avoiding me for eight months!"

"_I haven't been avoiding you," I sigh, sliding down to the floor with my back against the wall. _

"I've been calling you every day since the Quarter Quell announcement! Where have you been? I was worried!"

"_Sorry I…I've been busy." _

"Busy with what? I know your Mom doesn't like to answer the phone but what about Joey? I've missed my 'Hey where's your sister?' conversations with him. Where is everyone?"

_Not again. The one moment when I'm _not_ thinking about it and now I'm thinking about it again. _

"_Dead," is all I can say. _

"Oh Mason, I'm so sorr—"

"_Don't. Don't tell me you're sorry. I'm sick of people telling me that they're sorry."_

"Sor…You should have called me."

"_Yeah…well…" I was too busy having a breakdown, attempting suicide by exposure, and more recently cutting off my hair. "How're things in District 4?"_

"Yup great, everyone's on vacation at the moment. District-wide shut down while everyone enjoys the sunshine and has barbeques on the beach."

_I highly doubt this fact. This probably has something to do with the coal shortages from 12 and Mrs Lund's flour embargo. Are District 4 uprising too now? After my little visit from our (less than) honorable President I'm 100% sure that the phone lines are bugged._

"How are things in sunny District 7?"

"_Not so sunny. I feel bad for all the work crews out in the snow." Nothing is happening in District 7, business as usual. "I guess you saw the announcement then." _

"The Double Q? Yup, it's all the civilians are talking about here, about who might go, who might volunteer."

_I feel a pang in my chest. Oh…what if it's him, what if I have to face him in the arena. It's bad enough that I'm going to be sharing a chariot with either Blight or Egor, but if I have to stand on that pedestal at the Cornucopia and see Finnick on the other side…_

"_There's a lot less discussion about it here. It's either going to go one way or the other." _

"Of course, that must be how it is in District 12 too."

_Why would he mention District 12? It could go one way or the other in District 12? Of course! Katniss is the only female Victor there too! She's definitely in, just like me. _

_I wonder if this is somewhat to do with Snow's Plan. The only two Victors that will definitely go back to the arena no matter what happens. I know what I did, what did she do? '_You might solve another one of my little problems' Snow said to me. Is Katniss a problem to him? Don't be stupid Johanna, she's the one Plutarch and the rebellion want to be 'the mockingjay', all hail the mockingjay, of course she's a problem for Snow. _Is he throwing us back in with hopes that we'll kill each other?_

"Are you still there?"_ Finnick sounds concerned. _

"_Yeah…just thinking about who else might go in." _

"That's a banned conversation topic in this house."

_Annie…What if it's Finnick and Annie, battling each other. There's no way there'll be a 'two winners from the same District' rule this time. They'd have to watch each other die. The pang I'd felt earlier becomes an ache when I realise that this is exactly what's going to happen if Snow has any power over that Reaping Pot. If he has any clue about those involved in the rebellion then the 75__th__ Hunger Games Tributes will be a 'Who's Who' of troublemakers. We'll have to see on Reaping Day. _

"Let's not talk about it anymore, there's too many of us here in the Victors' Village checking each other out 'just in case'. It's an uncomfortable place to be at the moment. Let's talk about something else."

_So we do. We talk about my Uncle's shop, about Finnick's new two-tone boat because he ran out of one type of varnish before it was finished and everything except Annie, my family and the Quarter Quell. _

_Egor and Blight appear while I'm still on the phone. Blight gives me a questioning thumb up and I reply with a hesitant thumb wobbling in the middle. Egor stands in the doorway to the kitchen and holds up my clump of hair, a confused look on his face. I roll my eyes at him and point to my scruffy head. He still looks confused. Blight claps him on the back and directs him back into the kitchen. _

"_I should probably go now…" I tell Finnick. _

"Is someone there with you?"

"_Blight and Egor just came in." _

"Ok good, I don't like the thought of you there by yourself. Call me whenever you want, I'm always in and I'm always available from now on ok? You hear me?"

_I nod, and then realise that he can't see me. _

"_I hear you." _

"Even in the middle of the night. In fact if I don't hear from you by…Tuesday then I'm going to call you anyway so you better answer."

_I nod again. _

"_I will." _

"Take care of yourself Mason."

"_Take care," and I hold the receiver to my cheek for a short while after he's hung up. _

_When I go back into the kitchen, Blight is stirring a pot of something. _

_It smells bad. I think Blight sees me wrinkling up my nose because he looks embarrassed. _

"_It's soup, it's the only thing I can make," he apologises. _

"_Now Johanna," Egor scolds…or at least it sounds like he's trying to scold me. "I wish you'd tell us before you do something silly like this!" He still has my hair in his hand. "I thought a racoon had got into the trash! I could have had a heart attack!" _

_Yesterday I promised I wouldn't smile ever again, but now I feel different. I cover my mouth with my hands and laugh. _

_I see Blight and Egor share a worried look, what's the point? What's the point in moping around, screaming at people and worrying. Two out of the three of us may only have three more months to live. I'm definitely one of those two. Maybe I'll go find Iberio, maybe I _will_ take comfort in him like I want to every time I see him. Why deny myself a bit of pleasure after, and before, so much pain? We're only animals after all, animals ready to be sent to the slaughterhouse. _

What was it Uncle Fern said to me while I waited for the train the first time?

"_You can do this Kiddo, you know what you can do. Get an axe in your hand, picture the other Tributes as wild boar from my shop and come home."_

We're all animals.

I slurp Blight's steaming hot vegetable…goo… and get an early night. Tomorrow I'm going to stop moping and start _living. _

I wake up early in the morning in a sweat after a dream in which Hatty doesn't interrupt Iberio and I, and things get pretty heated. Just as his kisses start getting rather intimate my bedroom door flies open and Brutus from District 2 strides in. He sits astride me, an enormous hand around my throat. I choke for Iberio to help me but he's turned into one-eyed Drake from District 4 and he's holding a long knife. The knife prickles along the skin of my neck and I wake with a strangled cry.

My heart pounding in my chest, I reach across for the water on my bedside table. It could easily be Brutus or Drake that I face in the arena so I need to be ready. The sun is still half an hour from rising but I formulate a plan as I dress in my thickest layers.

I'm still tempted to go and see Iberio to re-enact the beginning of my dream but the light of day dispels some of my selfish lust and I realise that it wouldn't be fair to do that to him. If what Hatty said is true and he _does_ like me then going to bed with him when I'm probably going to die in three months would just be cruel. He did offer to help though…and I owe him a thank you. Fine. I'll go to the barracks first.

I check my new hairstyle in the mirror before I go. It looks awful. Because I cut it at the top of my head, my hair is short on the top and longer at the ends. With a sigh, I collect the kitchen scissors and bring them to my room so that the off-cuts don't frighten Egor again. I try my best to even it up, snipping here and there. I think it's a lost cause. It's all spiky. Why do I even care? I didn't care the first time. The Careers won't let me escape the bloodbath just because my hair looks nice. I drop the scissors in my trashcan with the trimmings of hair and just put a hat on.

The barracks is right on the other side of town, it's about an hours walk so the sun is well on it's way across the sky when I get there. Iberio had been on duty at sunrise yesterday so I might have missed him. It's worth a try though.

The Peacekeepers on guard at the gate accost me quickly.

"What are you doing here?" One of them grips his gun across his body.

"And a cheerful good morning to you too," I sneer. With my retro haircut I'm feeling a lot more like my old self and less like the vacant, tragic Johanna that I have been recently. Good. "I need to talk to someone."

"You are not authorised to progress through this gate," the other proclaims.

"Fine. Can you get him to come _out_ then?" I hate Peacekeepers, so dense.

"All Units are on deployment at the moment."

I groan.

"Then tell me which Unit he's in and I'll go _find _him."

"Who are you looking for?" the one with the gun demands.

"Err…Iberio…I don't know his last name but there can't be that many Iberios in District 7."

"Hold on," the one without a gun wanders off to check a clipboard while the other keeps his weapon to hand.

"What do you want him for?" he says.

"I'm selling him some black market liquor," I throw him a withering look. He continues to stare at me. "Drugs?" I try. "I'm carrying his baby?" Nothing. "Ok fine. He saved my life yesterday, I just wanted to say thank you. That's the truth, now stop staring at me."

He doesn't so I roll my eyes and ignore him.

The other one returns with his timetable in his hand.

"We've got a Corporal Iberio Philips on duty at Lumberyard Site A and then out with a work crew until six pm."

"That'll be him then, thanks for your help," I say to the weaponless one. Then I turn to the one with the gun and tell him, "You were not helpful."

"Good luck with your drunk, doped up, fake bastard baby," he says coolly.

I salute his comeback and make my way reluctantly to Lumberyard Site A, the place where my Father's body was found. On the other hand I should be able to kill two birds with one stone here since I was heading in this direction anyway.

I pass my old house. It sits there dark and untidy; a little carved wooden plaque identifies it as the 'Birth Place of Johanna Mason, Victor of the 71st Hunger Games'. Someone has _hilariously_ scratched out the 'tor' and replaces the 'V' with a 'D'. Ha…ha…ha.

I wonder if there's anyone else living there now. There's no sign of life but it's still early in the morning.

The Lumberyard looks exactly the same as I remember it from walking with Mother to visit Father. There's the comforting smell of sawdust in the air. The Loggers fell the trees, they get shipped to the mill and then the sawed up planks come here to be planed or trimmed according to the shipping instructions. It's one of several sites across District 7 but the closest to the train station, which gives it the 'A' label.

The Lumberjacks for a six-mile radius meet every morning at the yard to get in the trucks to the next logging location. There's a group standing around waiting for their transport. They see me and start sniggering. Probably pointing at my hair. Losers. My eyes scan the yard for white uniforms.

"No pyjamas today Johanna?" one oaf calls and the rest of them explode in hearty laughter.

Oh great. It wouldbe _that _team waiting for a truck.

I spot Iberio while I'm trying to come up with a cutting rebuttal.

I see a brief flash of pleasant light in his eyes before he blinks it away and turns back to the Loggers.

"Hey, that looks like your ride." He points at an approaching truck. "Start loading."

He approaches me briskly.

"Miss Mason," he says.

"Corporal Philips," I reply.

"Can I help you with something?" His eyes keep flicking to the truck.

"Yeah, if anyone mentions anything about me being pregnant with a drunk, doped up bastard baby, just go along with it."

"Ok." He picks up his helmet and puts it on his head with the visor open. "If that's all, I have a team to oversee." He turns to walk away and I must admit I'm a little dismayed by his cool attitude.

"Wait!" I grab his arm and I hear him hiss. "What? That can't have hurt!" He's got his armoured uniform on!

He turns back to me slowly, sadly, pained.

"I can't talk to you anymore Johanna," he says in a low voice.

"Why?" My forehead creases. "What's the matter?"

"It's just not my place." He tries to leave again so I pull on his arm a little harder, almost cruelly. He winces.

"Tell me! Are you hurt?"

His eyes dart back to the other Peacekeepers taking a headcount of the workers sitting in the back of the truck.

Iberio nods.

"How?"

"I got five lashes for leaving my post yesterday. I'm lucky that's all I got."

I gasp, feeling awful.

"Did you go to the healer?"

He shakes his head. "I…er…lay in the snow for a bit. It's not too bad, just enough to remind me…every time I move."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I just wanted to say thank you. I was pretty horrible to you yesterday and then you get flogged for your trouble."

"All part of the service Ma'am."

I want to kiss him again, right here in front of everyone but I'm afraid of what'll happen to him if I do. That, and the truck is now loaded and the other Peacekeepers are calling for him.

I let go of his arm.

"Thank you," I say again, looking deeply into his dark grey eyes trying to convey everything through a single look.

He gives me a tight smile before he pulls down his visor and rejoins his group.

There are a few more jeers from the Loggers as the truck passes me but I start to wave but then stick up my middle finger at them instead.

It really _would _be selfish of me now to give in to my urges with him, not that I think he'd be into it now. Five lashes have a special way of dampening lusty urges.

I head back into the lumberyard in search of someone else. I avoid looking around too much. I don't want to accidentally catch a glimpse of the rafters someone hung my Father from as punishment for me. Instead I ask some workers and they direct me to where I find her, in the office, bent over an enormous sheet of paper with a pencil in her hand.

"Excuse me?" I say after having knocked on the open door and cleared my throat.

"Mmm?" She hums without turning around.

"Foreman Anderson?"

She finally turns, the pencil now in her mouth.

"I…err I don't know if you recognise me…" I start.

"Of course I do!" she exclaims, dropping the pencil to the table and taking off her glasses.

Of course she does…Victor, hello.

"You're Dai Mason's daughter aren't you?" She gapes at me. "Gosh haven't you gotten big! Last time I saw you, you were sat on your Dad's shoulders having a tantrum because he wouldn't let you hold an axe."

Sounds about right.

She continues, "I used to work with your Dad out in the woods! Now that I'm a Foreman, they tell me I have to stay in here drawing up rotas and counting planks of wood to fulfil extensive Capitol orders." She rolls her eyes.

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask you about…" I say tentatively and tell her all about my plan.


	77. The Corporal And The Private

**Chapter Seventy-Seven- The Corporal and The Private**

Foreman Anderson is thrilled to be a part of my plan. She tells me that she didn't see much of the 71st Hunger Games but she very much enjoyed the Victor's Haul that I brought home with me so she's very enthusiastic about helping me bring another one back. She rotas me in with one of the work crews.

I need to build up some more muscle. I've gotten complacent with my easy lifestyle and that will not help in the big battle ahead. Foreman Anderson has also agreed to help me with one more aspect of my training. She is ultimately responsible for the return of every single axe used by any lumberjack operating out of Lumberyard Site A. She has agreed to overlook a solitary missing axe, fiddle the numbers to make it look like it's there, so that I can take one home with me to practice with.

When I get home that afternoon, I tell the boys about my plan. Neither of them look particularly interested by it, in fact I'm not sure Egor understands and I'm pretty sure Blight just intends to drink away the next few months.

I have to take one shift off for Mother and Joey's funerals, which is hard. But apart from that one day, you couldn't find a more dedicated lumberjack in District 7. I'm the first one there in the morning and the last one to get on the truck in the evening. I ache something fierce after the first week but after that it gets easier. As does my relationships with my fellow Loggers.

While the other Tributes might be impressed with my axe skills, the Loggers of District 7, some of whom have been doing this for forty years, are not awed at all. I'm the butt of every single joke during the first few days.

"Still on your first Johanna? We're going for lunch in a minute!"

"Has anyone got a little pink axe for the little princess?"

"You've got sloppy since the 71st Johanna!"

And my personal favourite,

"Looks like you need private tutoring Johanna, why don't you come round mine tonight and I'll show you how to swing."

I just grit my teeth and bear it. I have a hundred rebuttals for them by the end of the first day but I keep my mouth closed. I'm not here to make friends but things will be decidedly more difficult for me if I make enemies.

They soon realise that I can be of use to them though. They start to send me up the taller trees to shave off the smaller branches so they make less of a mess when they come down.

Sometimes Iberio is on shift to oversee our crew and although he doesn't talk to me any more than he talks to the others, sometimes I can feel his eyes on me. One particular time, one month before Reaping day in fact, Gunnar, a tall bulky thirty-something Logger with arm muscles that his shirts can't contain, gives me a boost up to the lowest hanging branch. He has one hand on my ass and the other bracing my lower thigh as I kick off from his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye I see Iberio take a step forwards. I smirk. Unfortunately Gunnar thinks I'm smiling at him and decides to put both hands on my ass and pull a crude face to the others. I grab a hold of the branch and haul myself up, kicking out at him as I go. I 'accidentally' kick him in the face. He doesn't offer to give me a boost the next time.

Before our lunch break we have to hand in our axes and retrieve our lunch tins from the truck. I'm the last one to hand over my axe as usual and so I settle down with my back against the side of the truck to eat my homemade sandwich alone. I'm twirling a spoon in my fingers, pretending it's a throwing knife when I overhear a conversation from the other side of the truck.

"You were totally checking out her butt!"

Urgh! Sometimes it sucks being in a male-dominated crew. There are two other women but they keep themselves to themselves, although they have told me they fared similarly to me in their first few weeks.

There's a grunt of protestation and the first voice continues.

"Please she was absolutely leading you on, she knew you were watching."

Yup I was definitely purposefully waving my ass in the air just to get attention. Like being a Victor with an endless money supply and yet volunteering to do 12-hour shifts to train for another battle to the death doesn't get me enough attention! Like being the youngest female on the crew doesn't get me enough lewd comments or vulgar hand gestures.

Gunnar has a young pregnant wife, I know he didn't intend on going any further than making a disgusting joke but I'm not about to showcase myself and walk right into those kinds of jokes.

Men are idiots.

"I'm telling you, you could probably click your fingers and she'd come running with her panties around her ankles, just like that laundress from back in 2."

"Alright that's enough Private!" Iberio's voice orders sternly, then in more hushed tones so that only the three of us hear, "You know that's not what it's like and I don't like you talking about my life in front of the crew."

_His _life?! What Laundress in District 2 exactly? Is this _jealousy_ bubbling through the blood vessels in my clenched fists?! Then I realise that they're talking about _my_ panties.

I'm so tempted to just stand up and fling this kni—well _spoon _at them. Instead I throw my half eaten sandwich back into my lunch tin and sit with my arms folded, smouldering until its time to go back to work.

I shred through my section after lunch so I offer to relieve one of the guys on the gigantic two-man saw we use for the thicker trees. It's hard work and it means I'm too tired to think much about arranging Iberio's partner's death to look like an accident. That is until he passes by me while I'm still on the saw and says,

"You know if you like a man in uniform, I could be very accommodating Johanna." He laughs and turns away.

In a burst of fury I throw off my gloves and my fist clenches again. It's one thing to take those comments from people I know are only joking, but if he thinks that'll make me 'come running with my panties round my ankles' then I'll-

My Saw Partner catches my arm.

"Don't," whispers the usually quiet Joshua. "It's not worth the trouble. Chalk's disgusting but he's usually harmless."

"Usually?"

"Well yeah. About a month ago, he tried it on with Anthea over there," he nods to one of the girls on our crew. "and she, to put it politely, said no way. He told Gallus that she was hitting on him to get out of her shift so she spent three days in the stocks."

"We have stocks too?!" I feel authoritative eyes on us so I put my gloves back on and take a hold of the saw again.

"Yeah it's a better punishment for the workers, we lost too many hands to infected wounds when they were flogging us. Anthea says that not many girls on the crews fight back anymore."

Disgusting. For a long while its all I can think about. After another twenty minutes Iberio comes over, but only to tell us that it's time for us to swap off the saw. I'm handed my little saw for the branches and sent up the nearest trunk to start trimming again.

I'm three quarters of the way through one branch when I hear a voice directly below my tree. It's Chalk. He's pointing and shouting at something then when he turns away I see a smug smile. Was he trying to get someone else into trouble?

That little devil on my shoulder shares Chalk's smugness as my hand finishes sawing off the branch all by itself. I give the softest call of warning before I let it fall to the ground, just missing the figure in the white uniform.

From all the way up here I can hear him screaming up at me gesturing wildly.

"She could have killed me!" I hear him yelp to Iberio.

"Trust me if I wanted to, yes I could have," I call back cheerfully.

"Mason!" Iberio bellows up to me. "Here. Now!"

Uh oh.

I shimmy down, saw still in hand, towards the spluttering Private and furious Corporal. I try to look sheepish but I'm pretty sure Iberio can see the rebellious laughter in my eyes.

He stands over me, his six foot two armoured frame blocking out the sun. I can't help but shiver in his shadow.

"You knew exactly what was going to happen didn't you?" he says in a low voice that is only meant for me.

Around me I can feel the silence. There's no chopping, no intrigued whispers, heck even the birds seemed to have shut up for once.

"If you mean that I knew it definitely wasn't going to hit him, then yes I knew what was going to happen," I reply through gritted teeth. I could really do without a dressing down in front of the staring team right now.

"Why did you do it?"

I shrug.

I can see now how he made Corporal. He's not shouting, there's no red, blustering face or spittle flying but I know that he's angry with me and I feel ashamed that I've let him down.

"Tell me why," he says again and takes another step towards me. We're almost chest-to-chest now. Out of the corner of my eye I see two members of my crew step forwards too, I think one of them might be Joshua.

"Tell me," Iberio says firmly one last time.

"He made a pass at me," I murmur, my eyes flicking down to my feet.

"You're going to drop a branch on every single man in this crew as well then?!" he asks calmly, but, when my eyes rise to meet his, I see the turmoil in them.

When I tried to tell him with my eyes how grateful I was to him for stopping me killing myself, I couldn't have even hoped to do it this well. When I look into his dark grey eyes I see all the hurt of watching other men make jokes about me, all the pain of knowing he has to punish me and all the confusion of why he doesn't want to. I want to hold his hand. I want to hold _him_ and tell him that it'll be ok, the rebellion will start soon, it already has in some Districts, and then he won't have to fight with himself anymore.

"He's tried to force himself on other girls as well and then when they fight back he has them put in the stocks," I whisper to him.

He closes his eyes and sighs.

"Get back up that tree Johanna." Then he turns back to the watching group.

"Miss Mason here has earned you all a few hours overtime. We will turn on the floodlights and you will work well past sunset," he orders, again without raising his voice.

There are a couple of groans but no protestation as loud as the one Chalk issues.

"Are you kidding me?!" he cries so all can hear. "She tries to kill me and now I have to stay out here for longer to watch them do their overtime?!"

"You shouldn't have been standing under a unit being worked on Private," Iberio tells him while rubbing his temples. He opens the door to the truck and fishes out his radio to call in the punishment.

I'm hanging from the lowest branch, saw handle in my mouth, trying to swing my legs up around the branch when a hand grabs my calf. Chalk has taken advantage of Iberio's back being turned and dragged me back down to the ground. The saw falls out of my mouth during my squeak of surprise and it bounces out of reach. I'm lying sprawled out on my back with Chalk crouched over me, holding down my arms. I'm reminded of my Brutus dream.

"I don't know what freaky favours you're doing for him in the sack but you must be good," he hisses. "Attempted murder on a law enforcement officer, that's a death penalty and if he won't exact it then I will!"

I don't even bother to fight. He's an idiot and deserves every bruise he gets when Gunnar lifts him off me by the scruff of his neck and flings him to one side, before offering me a hand up.

I dust off my hands and advance on him. Just to scare him even more Anthea tosses me her axe and I catch it deftly in one hand. I swing it around a little and the pathetic Private backs away on his hands and knees.

"Gonna have to take a rain check on that death penalty sweetheart," I smile. "Not sure you really know who you're dealing here. You might have gotten a little too used to cowering little girls but here's a tip: Sometimes those cowering girls stand up and you don't want to see them when they're pissed."

He gulps as his back hits a tree and the axe leaves my hands. It hits the tree with a satisfying 'thwack' an inch above his head. I smile, collect the saw and the axe, and swing back up into the tree.

When Corporal Philips reappears, everything is as it was, except Private Chalk seems to have fainted against a tree.


	78. Charming

**Chapter Seventy-Eight- Charming**

I'm so tired by the time the extra-long shift finishes that I flop onto the sofa and sleep there. I don't even have the energy to dream.

Unfortunately I'm shaken awake by Egor, it seems to be just before sunrise, but he looks worried.

"What's wrong?" I rub my eyes.

"Oh," he sighs. "Nothing, I thought you were dead."

I frown.

"What?" I croak. He's been getting more and more strange. The other day he asked me what time we were going down to The Pit for lunch, this was at eight pm.

"Nothing, nothing. Do you have an old rag? I'm going to unblock the kitchen drain," he mutters, plumping the sofas.

"With an old rag?!" I exclaim and take a look at the clock on the mantelpiece. "At six am?! Are _you_ ok?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I wish you'd stop worrying Sofia!"

Sofia?! Little Cupboard Mom. Is he still going over there and helping them?

"Egor, I think it's bedtime."

"No, no don't be silly. There's things to do, things to pack up." He starts grabbing handfuls of nuts from the bowl on the coffee table and drops them into his jacket pockets.

"Pack up? Why are you packing up Egor?" I sit up intrigued.

"I told you, there're things to do. Got to get out before Reaping Day in case, in case. Do you have a map? A map would be a very good idea."

Got to get out before Reaping Day… Croft's family are clearing out! Are they taking Egor with them?!

"Egor, just go to bed," I say, throwing my coat back around me.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm just going to ask some of our neighbours for a cup of sugar," I reply through gritted teeth, slamming the door behind me.

I stride over to Croft's house, go round the back and kick through the door again. As usual there's no movement in the house. In fact I can't even hear the bleeping of the machine keeping the stranger alive.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" I call, going straight to the pantry/basement door.

There are backpacks stacked up against the empty shelves in the pantry and there is shuffling coming from downstairs.

"Hey there Cupboard Family," I sing on the stairs. When I get halfway down I stop.

There's a gun barrel pointing right at me. Behind it huddle a terrified family.

I hold up my empty hands.

"Just me."

"What do you want?!" The man holding the gun bellows.

"Look, I don't talk to people pointing guns at me. It's a funny quirk of mine. Why don't you put that down before you accidentally get new brain-coloured wallpaper?"

Sofia puts a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder and he reluctantly lowers it.

"Are you here to turn us in?" the man demands. "Because in thirty days the Peacekeepers will be coming for us anyway!"

To come and collect 'Croft' for Reaping.

"What are you going to do with Mr Upstairs?" My eyes flick upwards. "Turn him off like a light switch on your way out?"

"Already done," Mr Cupboard murmurs, pushing his light blond son behind another pile of bags.

"Egor says you're going. Is he coming with you?" If he disappears then Blight and I will have no Mentor and Lalaney will have to do her best getting us Sponsors by herself.

Sofia looks sheepish as she shakes her head.

"No sense in bringing him," her husband says brashly, inspecting his gun. "He'd only slow us down. We've got a lot of ground to cover, with only anonymity to disguise us. Bringing a sick Victor is more attention than we need for where we're going."

"Slow you—" I'm furious! _Everything_ Egor's done for them to keep them hidden and they're going to leave him here to face death or solitude after Blight and I die because he might _slow them down._ Ooh I've half a mind to stomp straight over to the barracks and tell them all about the Cupboard Family.

"We've got to get all the way to District 13!" the little boy pipes up.

"Hush Linden," Sofia pushes him back behind the bags.

My rant falters.

"District 13?" The file that I scanned for Plutarch and the rebellion had what looked like recent details about the population of District 13. "Why are you heading there?"

Mr Cupboard gets twitchy with his gun again.

"What's it to you? You can't escape, you're being tossed into the pen with all the other hungry pigs."

I make brief eye contact with Sofia.

"Charming husband you've got there," I retort. "Why are you going to 13? You better tell me or I'm going straight to Gallus with the information."

"You do that and I'll—" Mr Cupboard raises the gun again, his face blistering red.

"Put that away," Sofia puts a hand around the barrel and tilts it towards her. "She's not going to report us, she won't because if she does then she knows the rebellion will be in trouble." There's a slyness in her eye that raises goosebumps up and down my body.

I bite.

"Why? How do you know about 13?"

"The TV. We watch a lot of TV down here. Haven't you ever seen the District 13 footage?" Little Linden pokes his head above the bags once more.

"I have, it's just a wasteland."

"No, it's the same," the daughter, Matilda, corrects me.

"The same as what?"

"The same as every time we see it. It's just one recording replayed over and over, you can see a bird in the corner. It's always there, month in, year out."

Sofia interrupts.

"It's old footage, so they're hiding something from us. If they're hiding something then the rebellion must be behind it, otherwise why wouldn't they want us to know about it? The other Districts are uprising, that's why we had a spell of no coal from 12 or grain from 11, Egor says there's word from the tailors that there's textile shortages, that's 8."

"4 are out too," I mutter, using my information from Finnick.

"Yet we've seen nothing about it on the TV, they're hiding what they don't want us to see so if they're hiding District 13 too then it must be because it's trouble for them, therefore good for us. If you report our plan then Snow will know that people are heading to 13 and he'll have it destroyed. We're packed up, we're off tonight."

"We've looked at maps!" Linden calls excitedly. He's obviously all caught up in the adventure, oblivious to the hardships they're going to face on this journey.

"Yes, we know that west there's nothing but ocean, and north there's the Wildlands. We're heading east," Sofia nods.

I think about the map of District 12 I saw in the Population Division in the Capitol. Ocean to the east.

"East seems like a good idea," I tell them. "You know you're going to have to cross into other Districts to get to 13. How are you going to make it through?"

"I told you, I'm good at paperwork," Sofia winks. They really do have it all planned. "You know, you could come with us if you wanted." Yeah and be the travelling group's bodyguard, I don't think so.

"Nice try Cupboard Mom but I've got a shift with the Loggers to get to and, here's a concept you're probably unfamiliar with, I've got some music to face here in 7."

I can't imagine they'll get very far and I have no idea what they might find if they do get to District 13 but I wish them good luck with their hopeless journey. I still despise them for abandoning poor Egor and I wash my hands of them as soon as I bang the door closed behind me.

When I get home I gather Egor's clothes up from where he's dropped them on the stairs on his way to bed, thank goodness I wasn't home for _that_ little show, and squeeze in another hour's sleep. It's soon time to head back to the lumberyard for another long shift.

It's a couple more weeks until Iberio is scheduled to be back on my shift and I'll admit the first day he's supposed to be there I don't notice his absence. It's only at the end of the shift in the dusky light when I see the white uniform waiting for me after I've 'checked in' my axe that I realise he hadn't been there. Maybe he's been moved to a different unit or something and he's come to tell me.

"Evening Miss Mason," a rough voice says. It's not Iberio. It's Chalk.

I don't stop, I keep walking past him but he hurries along next to me.

"What do you want?" It's some comfort knowing that I have a small axe concealed in the lining of my thick coat.

"Just waiting for you Johanna," he says slimily. I don't look around but I can feel the creepy smile he's aiming at me.

"Lets stick with Miss Mason if you don't mind Private Chalk," I tell him.

"Whatever you say _Miss Mason_."

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? Hmm that's a deep question...what do I want? How about you getting down on your hands and knees and kissing my boots? Yeah I think I want that."

I wheel around quickly and shove him hard in the gut before he has time to realise what's happening.

"You know what I want?" I bark down at him. "There are a hundred explicit words that I could use but they all mean the same thing: Take a hike buddy, or I'm going to report you."

"To who?" Chalk laughs, still holding his middle while scrambling back to his feet. "Corporal Philips? Good luck with that, he got shipped off with a unit heading to 8 last week."

"What?" I'm stunned. Why didn't he say? Why did he just go without telling me...and why wasn't this dumbass sent with him? He's part of Iberio's unit isn't he? Why didn't he go too? He must have been specially picked to go with another unit.

"It's going to be tough over there. The unit was sent to replace one that got burnt out...literally, the rebels set fire to the garrison while they were sleeping. I just hope they don't scar his pretty face."

"Shut up," I growl. "That can't be true." The rebels wouldn't just burn down a building with people inside would they? Even if they were Peacekeepers.

"Believe it or not, Lover Boy's still gone out to a war zone. Leaving little ol' me to look out for you, if you can make it worth my while like you did for him..." He leers at me and leans forward to graze my cheek with the back of his hand.

I shudder and swipe his hand away before he can touch me.

"As charming as your offer is, I'd take about a billion steps away from me before I break your face."

"Play coy if you like, you'll be dead in a couple of weeks anyway," Chalk mutters but backs away. "See you tomorrow."

Goosebumps run up and down my whole body during the rest of my walk home. I can't help feeling like there's a shadow still following me.

Could they have sent Iberio away as a punishment for having my back? I'm getting really tired of people being punished for just being close to me.

When I get home, I go out into the backyard and toss my borrowed axe around a little. I'm infallible at hitting my target now. I've borrowed all sorts of different sized and weighted axes to makes sure I'm not caught by surprise with whatever they put in the Cornucopia. I plant it into the crudely carved face in my target tree more times than I can count. I even try closing my eyes. I'm getting pretty good at that too. I might not get the snake-eyed face every time but I land fatal blows for sure.

The next day, sure enough Chalk is there at the Lumberyard counting in the Loggers as they arrive.

Anthea sits at the back of the truck, jiggling her leg up and down as we travel. Joshua looks over at her concerned.

"Is it Chalk?" I whisper to him.

"I think so. She hasn't said a word."

She doesn't even speak to Marta, the only other female on our team. She remains silent until well after lunch. I watch her whenever I can, afraid that Chalk might be up to his old tricks with fragile women. She doesn't even speak when Chalk approaches her. They're at the fringe of the group and I can't hear what he's saying to her but she looks uncomfortable. She keeps swinging her axe but every so often takes a tiny step away from him. He closes every gap that she makes and then I see him pull the same move he tried on me. He brushes back a loose strand of her hair with the back of his hand. I chew on my lip, just watching.

"Mason, watch out!" a voice calls and I dodge a falling tree.

"Eyes on the game," Gunnar brings a heavy fist down on my hardhat and laughs heartily on his way past. I help the others chop off some branches and then carry the trunk over to the truck. We heave it up onto the back and dusting off our hands, the boys are slapping each other on the back. I turn to pull a face at Marta and Anthea but realise that Anthea isn't there.

"Hey!" I call to the boys. "You seen Anthea?"

"She was on the north perimeter," someone replies, pointing to where I'd last seen her too.

"She didn't help out just now?" Marta looks just as worried as I feel.

We get a few shrugs and shakes of the head.

"She'll be fine," Gunnar bangs my hat again. "You're the only idiot who doesn't pay attention around here."

I can't see Chalk either.

"Anthea?" I yell. "Anthea I need a hand over here!"

There was no reply but there's a rustle of leaves and Anthea appears next to me.

I'm so relieved.

"Where have you been? I almost got squashed did you see?" I babble, grabbing my axe from the pile of branches that I'd dumped it in to help with the carrying.

When I finally look up at her I gasp.

"Anthea…" She's sporting a blue and purple bruise stretching from under her eye socket up to her brow. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she whispers and tries to slink away, picking up her own axe and getting back to work.

"No, seriously," I grab her shoulder. "What happened."

She shrugs me off.

"Nothing. Please, can we just get back to work?"

Chalk appears from over where Anthea had been working looking smug.

"It was him wasn't it? He did this to you while everyone was distracted."

"Johanna, don't," she calls me back but it's too late. I have blood boiling in my veins and nothing else on my mind.

"Hey Prince Charming!" I shout across the clearing, everyone turns to look at me. "What part of 'I will break your face' did you not understand?!"

The other Peacekeeper on duty steps forward.

"Step away Miss Mason," he says pathetically. I stride right past him and sock Chalk right in the eye.

"Here now you match your conquests," I spit at him.

The other Peacekeeper heads for the truck to get his gun but Gunnar seizes him and holds him in place.

"Let go of me Mason before you do something you'll regret!" Chalk croaks.

I laugh at him.

"I'm sure that would be a scarier threat if I hadn't been threatened by much bigger fish already. You are going to stay away from all District 7 women or I will remove your reason for showing interest in them."

I contemplate hitting him again but think better of it and turn away.

The dirty sneak grabs me by the neck as soon as my back is turned and smacks my head into a tree in front of us.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to do that when you're spending the time before Reaping Day locked in the stocks in front of everyone, then after that it's just a matter of time until a _real _warrior—" His voice stops suddenly and I turn back to face him, blood seeping down my chin from a split lip.

His eyes are bulging in their sockets and he's making a strange grumbling sound. He lurches forward and grabs both of my shoulders. He heaves and a spurt of blood hits me in the face. It's only when I take a disgusted step back that I take in the sight of his whole body.

There's a dark scratch on the front of his white armour. He scrabbles at it with his fingers. They come away red. The scratch is bleeding. Then he drops to his knees in front of me and I see Joshua standing behind him, his hands empty, an axe embedded in the Peacekeeper's back.

"Joshua…" I say his name in a stunned breath. "What have you done?"


	79. Facing The Music

**Chapter Seventy-Nine- Facing The Music**

Joshua looks just as disturbed as the rest of us. Chalk is writhing on the ground coughing up more blood and we're all just standing around horrified.

The other Peacekeeper wrenches free of Gunnar's hold and runs for the radio in the truck.

"Get him on his side," someone calls. "So he doesn't choke on his own blood."

"He's already choking on his own blood dumbass!" I snap. "He's got a hole in his chest!"

While we're arguing about what to do with this burbling bloody mess, Anthea strides through the group, puts her boot down hard on Chalk's shoulder and heaves the axe out of his back with another spurt of blood. He screams in agony and his face immediately drains.

"Crap Anthea!" Gunnar bellows. "He's bleeding out. He'll never make it, the medical crew won't get here in time."

"He wasn't going to make it anyway," Marta replies.

I take my eyes off the dying man and watch Anthea and Joshua. They've moved away from the crowd to stand in front of each other, not saying a word. Joshua brings a gentle hand up to her face and carefully caresses her temple. She catches his hand and brings it to her lips, kissing his knuckles tenderly.

They're together…or at least they want to be. Nothing like facing the death penalty together to make you realise how you feel about each other.

They rest their foreheads against each other, holding hands between them.

Behind me the noise has died down and I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Gunnar.

"He's dead. What are we going to do Mason?"

"I don't know," I sigh.

"Well we'll do whatever you say," he says quietly and I feel the rest of the crew move around me.

"We can't hand them in," Marta breathes.

"We won't," I reply.

"Whatever we're doing, we better do it quick, the whole garrison will be here in a couple of minutes."

I step forwards towards the young couple.

"Err…guys." I clear my throat and they give me their attention. "Might I suggest that, unless you plan on swinging next to each other from the 'old Hanging Tree', you, to put it bluntly, take a hike." I shed my jacket and throw it to them. "Guys," I address the work crew. "Any of you got some crumbs left from lunch? Toss it all in a tin and give it to them. They're gonna need as much food as we can scrape together."

It's a poor show of leftovers, you don't get many leftovers when the team is starving, but it's better than nothing.

"Take this," I kick over the bloody axe and Joshua picks it up. "I don't know how far you'll get, they'll be sending hovercrafts after you so keep your eye on the sky."

Anthea leaps forward and grasps my hands tightly.

"Thank you for trying to fix this. Somethings just can't be fixed peacefully."

"Don't I know it," and I think about the rapidly approaching Reaping Day. "Good luck."

She smiles and, hand-in-hand, they run, off to face their own Hunger Game.

By the time the truck, filled to capacity with Peacekeepers, appears we are all back in our places hammering away at the treeline like we haven't noticed the body on the blood-soaked ground.

"Which way did he go?" A white uniform demands. They don't know about Anthea.

We all shrug and point in different directions.

We get every threat in the book.

"Tell us or we'll put you in the stocks."

"Tell us or you'll all be on the whipping post."

"Tell us or we'll burn your houses down."

Each time we change the direction of our fingers.

Our shift gets extended by twelve hours. No one says a word.

A hovercraft goes over our heads three times, I pray that it's empty every time it goes over.

We each receive three lashes. I earn myself an extra two for 'sassing the justice serving officer'.

By the time Reaping Day arrives I've just about healed but it still twinges when I lay on my back. I can't wait for Gaia to see the red stripes across my back and shoulders when I get to the Remake Center.

There's a commotion over at Croft's house on the morning of Reaping Day. They discover the body, and I think the second home below stairs.

More Peacekeepers than usual come to escort Egor, Blight and I to the square, but this time we aren't bundled into the Justice Building to drink and eat while we wait for the potential Tributes to be lined up. This time we _are_ the potential Tributes. Egor and Blight are in a roped off area to my left, and I am led to one of my own. One of my guards is the officer that had to call in Chalk's death, he gives me a rough shove into the pen.

"Are you serious?" I say, gesturing to the wide-open space around me. Ridiculous.

Poor Egor is leaning against Blight, his hands, clasped, are shaking in front of him. He shouldn't be put through all this again. He's too old, too...fragile. If his name come out he's likely to just have a heart attack right here. I haven't spoken again to Blight about the possibility of volunteering for him. I just have to hope that the right thing will happen...whatever the right thing is.

I bet the Career district pens are all much more social than this. I'm just twiddling my thumbs while the gathering crowd grows and stares.

"Johanna!" someone calls and the crowd parts. Gunnar and a small, but heavily pregnant, woman push through.

My white uniformed friends step between us and I roll my eyes.

"Ignore them, they're just concerned for my _safety_ aren't you boys? You must be Gunnar's wife," I reach my arm out between the Peacekeepers and offer my hand for the woman to shake.

"Nice to meet you," she chuckles. "We just wanted to see you before you go, wish you good luck."

"Yeah, keep your eyes open Mason," Gunnar grins and grabs my arm, pulling me through the Peacekeepers and into an enormous bear hug and then whispers urgently in my ear, "There's going to be a public execution straight after the cameras are gone. They came round with leaflets this morning."

"Joshua?"

"We don't know, it doesn't say. If it is then there's no way the rest of the guys will stand back and watch them kill him… or Anthea. There's going to be full-scale rebellion tonight mark my words. We won't let anything happen to them or anyone from District 7."

The Peacekeepers get restless with the length of the hug and pry us apart.

"Be safe!" I call to Gunnar and his wife.

"You too," Mrs Gunnar replies solemnly.

"We'll be watching," Gunnar adds.

"You'd better! It's gonna be one hell of a show!" I wink and the Peacekeepers push the couple back into the crowd.

One hell of a show...unlike this Reaping. I mean how idiotic does this look. This massive roped off pen for little ol' me. I can't wait until Lalaney comes onstage and grabs that one piece of paper from the girls' pot of names. I imagine there's some excitement in the air in other Districts, who will go, who will Mentor, who will stay and watch? Not here. Someone behind me yawns.

I catch Blight's eye across the way. He shakes his head and taps on his watch. Egor is still shivering beside him.

A creaky door opens and silence falls as the clip-clop of high heels struts across the wooden stage. The cameras on the cranes around us twist on their pivots to focus in on our Escort.

It's not Lalaney. It's some bright orange haired woman with a pale white face and golden beauty spot painted under her left eye. I see a red light blinking in the corner of my eye, one of the cameras is on me, I wonder if it's Snow's private feed so he can see how I react to this turn of events. I turn and blow a kiss to it but inside I'm fuming. Where is Lalaney?!

"Good morning and welcome!" she trills. "My name is Melanita Hamm and I'll be the Escort for the District 7 Tributes this year, the Third Quarter Quell. I know we're all very excited to see what this _special _edition of The Hunger Games will reveal but I just wanted to tell you all what an _honour_ it is to be your Escort for the 75th Annual Hunger Games." She pauses for a round of applause that doesn't come. "Anyway, first we have a little presentation to watch, brought to you from The Capitol itself…"

The usual movie about why we have the Hunger Games and how it's to punish the rebels plays on the big screens. I look around at the crowd. I see people holding the hands of their children, grateful that they've been spared this year. I see people shaking their heads at the movie. I see anger in the eyes of the citizens of District 7. Anger that no one is safe, anger that Blight, Egor and I are standing in front of the stage. People may not like me that much but I think they can see how unfair this is. It was only four years ago since I was last here, they can all remember it. Some of the older ones will be able to remember the other Victors too, they will know that I, and whoever my District partner ends up being, won't stand a chance.

The short film ends and Melanita claps joyfully.

"Brilliant! Brilliant! Alright, now to choose our Tributes!"

She totters over to the girls' fishbowl. My lonely slip of paper is laying pathetically at the bottom. They've still folded it up! Like there might be some surprise and it _isn't_ my name! She struggles to reach it right down the bottom of this enormous bowl.

I turn to the crowd disbelievingly.

I catch Marta's eye and she claps a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile.

"Let's see," Melanita has finally managed to hook the paper with her sparkly green nails. "Johanna Mason!"

All cameras focus on me.

I put one hand on my chest, the other across my brow and moan desperately,

"The shock! The horror!"

"Alright Mason," one of the Peacekeepers says gruffly and takes my elbow.

"Don't _touch_ me." I jerk my arm out of his reach and hold my head up as I stride ahead of them up onto the stage. I stand there next to the new Escort and roll my eyes.

I wonder if Iberio is watching…wherever he is. I wish I could have seen him just one more time.

Melanita goes over to the other pot.

"And now the bo—gentlemen."

This time she has a much more important role, whichever one of those two names she picks could mean death for one and life for the other.

I cross my fingers behind my back. Will Blight volunteer for Egor?

"Blight Eriksson!"

Oh well, guess I don't have to worry about that anymore.

Blight lets out a breath that it looks like he didn't know he was holding, and he walks slowly with the Peacekeepers up to the stage, his head hanging.

Melanita makes us shake hands and I keep a hold of Blight's hand after we're ushered towards the Justice Building. I stop just before the door and raise both in the air.

"There are dark clouds ahead but District 7 will weather any storm!" I quote the last part of our District motto.

We are unceremoniously shoved through the door, but not before I hear the cries of support from the people that I thought hated me. I'm pretty sure one of the voices is the booming tone of Gunnar. They continue shouting and clapping and stamping so loud that we can hear them in the next room. We also hear the rapid rounds of gunfire and shrieks of alarm.

There's no time allowed for visitors, not that Blight or I have anyone to come visit us, and we are quickly taken to the waiting silver snake at the train station.

Egor is already on board. His eyes are bloodshot and pink. He's been crying.

"Oh my Johanna," he snivels and embraces me, then turns to Blight. "Young Blight, I'm sorry that I couldn't—I didn't…" He grabs him into his arms as well.

Blight doesn't say anything, so it's up to me.

"Don't be silly, no one expected you to volunteer. Here…" I ease him off Blight and pat a sofa cushion. He sits down, using the arm of the chair to steady himself.

"Look," I say pouring Egor a cup of tea, "It's the old gang together again, this time without those pesky Tributes killing the buzz…"

"Except _we're_ the pesky Tributes…" Blight says quietly.

"And right now you're killing my buzz," I reply sternly.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't use the k-word." He slumps into an armchair and puts his face in his hands.

I pick up a spare teacup and launch it at Blight. It smashes on the dresser right behind his head and he jumps up.

"Stop being so damned sorry for yourself!" I bark at him. "We knew this was coming, why are you acting like it's _such_ a surprise?!"

"For the same reason you're screaming at me!" he yells back. "Because I'm facing the now confirmed inevitability of my imminent death!"

"So you're just giving up then?!"

"No!" He approaches me and for a moment I think he might be about to hit me. Instead he reaches behind me and grabs a bottle of liquor. "I'm getting so drunk that I choke on my own vomit so I don't have to go through this hideous nightmare all over again!" He turns on his heels and pulls the door to the next carriage so hard that the handle tears right off.

"That sounds like giving up to me!" I yell after him but I doubt he hears.

The door to the other side of the carriage opens and our brand new, super keen Escort appears.

"Goodness! What's happening in here?!" she shrieks eying up the broken teacup on the floor and Egor sobbing into his oversized handkerchief.

"Nothing, it's all sunshine and daisies in here," I retort. "Deal with that," I gesture at Egor. "I'll see you at dinner."

I go to my usual room and flop onto the bed, furious. We could do this so much better if Blight hadn't already given up! He's just going to leave me to do this on my own, like he did when we were Mentors! I grab my pillow and scream into it. I can't believe I'm here again. I can't believe I'm going to be worked on at the Remake Center and not directed to the waiting room. I can't believe that after dinner I'm going to have to sit down and watch the Reapings from all over Panem to try and gauge the strengths and weaknesses on _my _opponents.

Damn.

The other Reapings. Who am I going to be facing?

My stomach tightens in knots, and then knots of knots during dinner. I sit there twisting a butter knife around in my fingers thinking about all the familiar faces that I may be seeing on the chariots at the Tribute Parade.

I'll give Melanita one moment of praise, she manages to get Blight out of his room to eat something.

I get tiny helpings of everything down my throat, with a lot of effort, in an attempt to pass the time until the Reapings footage.

Melanita turns on the television set while dessert is still being served. I think I might throw up from the anticipation. I can't touch the cream-filled pastries and relocate to the sofa, holding a cushion tightly to my chest.

Egor and Blight soon join me. A lot of the potential Tributes are old friends of theirs.

District 1 first.

Their usual blue-haired Escort takes the stage and delves his hand into the plentiful pot and calls out the name:

"Cashmere Bentley!"

Great. We've always threatened to kill each other, now we might get chance to actually do it, hooray!

"And next the District 1 male Tribute: Sleek T—"

Before the Escort can finish announcing the name, a hand shoots up.

"I volunteer!"

Gloss, Cashmere's brother. Why has he volunteered? He can't possibly think that there'll be two winners this year like last year. Is he going to kill his sister if it comes down to just the two of them?!

District 2 yields sharp-toothed Enobaria, who won her game by tearing out the throat of her opponent with her own teeth, and Tribute from my nightmares, Brutus, who volunteers.

A title card reading 'District 3' fills the screen.

Their pens are relatively unpopulated like ours were. Crazy Wiress is chosen from the ladies selection. Agnes falls to the ground in tears.

Attention turns to the boys.

"Please, not Byte," I whisper. "Spare him from doing all this again."

"Beetee Cohen," calls their Escort and poor little old Beetee makes his way to join Wiress. "Do we have any volunteers?"

The camera focuses on Byte's face. He's the youngest, fittest and the only hope for a volunteer.

His eyes fix on the floor below him, his face reddening with every passing millisecond. This is exactly what Snow is after. You think you're friends but look, this healthy young man won't sacrifice himself for his old Mentor to whom he owes his life.

'District 4'.

Here we go.

A part of me had wondered if Lalaney would turn up in this footage, like she had been sent back to Escort them instead of us. Nope.

Egor, Blight and I both clap our hands over our mouths as the Capitol voice rings around the tired looking crowd.

"Annie Cresta!"

I see Finnick visibly deflate. He shakes his head, looking at the floor as one-eyed Drake pats him on the back.

Annie screams. She screams and screams and screams. I bury my head into the cushion to try to drown out the desperate sound of her fear.

"Oh…Mags," Egor breathes sadly.

"What?" I lower the cushion. Mags is mounting the stage instead and Annie is being taken away by Peacekeepers. "Is she volunteering?!"

Egor nods.

My heart sinks. Oh Mags, you've sacrificed yourself, there's no way you'll be able to keep up with the likes of Brutus or Enobaria…

I know the name of the male Tribute before it's even called out. It's been too well planned. I wouldn't be surprised if every piece of paper in that first bowl read 'Annie Cresta' and every one in the second read:

"Finnick Odair!"

Nobody volunteers for him.

I'm going into the arena to face my best friend.

I knew I was going to have to face some music but there's no way I'm going to be dancing to this tune.


	80. The Horse Joke

**A/N- Credit has to go to samclaflin on Twitter for 'The Horse Joke' in this chapter. **

**Chapter Eighty- The Horse Joke**

I can feel my heart beating in my throat as we watch the rest of the Reapings. I know Blight is worried about his old drinking buddies Chaff and Haymitch, and Egor is still distraught over Mags volunteering. It doesn't matter for me, my best friend has already been sentenced to die with me.

No, a voice tells me. No he's got a chance of making it out. Everyone knows Finnick, everyone likes Finnick, he can charm everyone, even Cashmere! He's fighting fit too and he'll be desperate to get home to Annie.

He _will_ be desperate to get back to Annie, another nastier voice adds. What if you two run into each other? Who's _really_ going to come out of that altercation the worst? It's going to be you Jo-Jo. It's going to be you falling to the ground with a trident through your chest.

Don't be silly, the first voice chastises. He wouldn't do that, and if he does then it's no big deal, he's got someone to go home to, you've got no one.

There's no way that I'm going to hurt him, or knowingly let him get hurt. If I have to stalk him through the arena just to slice up anyone that comes near him then I will.

In my pensive few moments I miss a few other Districts, including District 8 so I miss my chance to look for Iberio in the crowd. I tune back in just in time for District 10.

The woman is a slight, bright red-haired thing, with teary eyes the size of dinner plates. She looks just as terrified as everybody else up on those stages. The man looks like he might be in his thirties, dark hair and dark blue eyes that stare out defiantly at the cameras. I don't recognise either of them from the Capitol.

District 11 serves up Seeder first, which elicits another moan from Egor. She looks good though, nowhere near her age. She's only a few years younger than Egor but looks decades healthier than him. Next the male Tribute's name comes out.

It's Baler, District 11's most recent Victor, but before he can leave the roped off pen Chaff has thrown his one arm in the air and volunteered.

"What is he doing?!" I whisper, chewing on my index fingernail.

"He's never liked feeling left out…" Blight murmurs sadly.

District 12 looks like the very same pathetic set-up as we saw in District 7. Katniss stands alone in her pen and her Escort grapples with the fishbowl to reach her solitary slip of paper. The Girl Who Used To Be On Fire slinks up onto the stage and waits silently while her partner is chosen.

"Haymitch Abernathy!" calls the now gold haired Escort.

Blight moans into his hands, all his drinking buddies will be with him in the arena.

But once more, another hand goes up and rescues Haymitch.

Melanita lets out a shriek of dismay.

Peeta Mellark takes his place next to Katniss Everdeen. The two winners from last year are going back together….and I have to go in with them.

I couldn't stand them when I was watching them on TV and now I have to spend the next couple of weeks almost constantly in their company. I can't _wait_ for the Game to start now just so I don't have to watch their vomit-inducing lovesick performance.

They don't stare wistfully at each other like I thought they would. They stand facing the crowd stiffly.

The TV goes black.

"So tragic, such a shame," Melanita blubs.

I've got a feeling she's just talking about Katniss and Peeta, and not the host of veterans who have already paid their dues and yet have to go back and reface their nightmares.

"Take it up with your President," I mutter, picking up my feet to step over Blight's propped up legs, but just pushing straight through Melanita's.

"Ow!" she begins to shriek but Blight claps his hand over her mouth just as I turn my furious eyes onto her.

"If you don't want her to _break_ your legs then I suggest you act like that never happened," he says quietly.

I knew Blight and I would be a good team, I think smugly as I shut myself in my room for the night.

That's the last time I see Blight during the journey. He emerges pink-eyed and pale from his room as we dock at the Capitol train station.

If I was overwhelmed by the media presence at my first appearance as a Tribute, then I'm absolutely speechless at the noise coming from the crowd of hundreds on the platform outside for my second.

They scream and bang on the windows.

"Johanna!"

"Johanna!"

"Blight!"

"Johanna!"

Even Melanita shies away from the windows.

We are pushed through the crowd by Peacekeepers into the relative peacefulness of the Remake Center. _Relative _peacefulness.

I am scooped up by my usual Prep Team and thrust down onto a pallet to be hosed down and buffed, polished and remade just like the first time. Unlike the first time though, the team are a little more tentative.

The usually Teary One gingerly approaches my eyebrows with her tiny pincers.

"We're really sorry about this Johanna," Oberon says sadly while sorrowfully sliding a tiny brush backwards and forwards under my nails.

"Yeah," V nods before jabbing my toes with something that feels like it is electrocuting my pores. "And…we all just wanted to say that…we're going to be supporting you this time."

Ha! This time.

I roll my eyes.

"Look, guys," I say. "Now is when I could do without the sappy speeches and _you_," I shake off Oberon to point up at the Teary One, "don't even think about crying. Right now, I need gossip. Come on vortexes of pointless knowledge, open up and spill your guts about what you know about the others. Anything?"

They all share a look across me.

"We shouldn't…" Oberon mutters.

"Come on, who's going to know?" V raises her eyebrows and looks around furtively. "She might not even make it out of the first day alive."

"She might, and she might hurt us if we don't!" Teary One hisses. I knew I'd broken her.

V and Oberon stare it out across my chest until Oberon sags.

V grins and takes a deep breath in.

"My roommate is a part of the District 6 Prep Team and apparently their Tributes are sky high constantly. They'll be no trouble. Oberon's cousin is on the District 1 Prep Team…"

My ears prick up.

"Supposedly, I don't know how true this is…You tell her Oberon!"

Oberon looks reluctant but the excitement of the gossip overcomes him and he relents.

"My cousin says that…apparently Gloss has…a little crush…on you."

"What?!" I exclaim. "Gloss?! As in buff…Gloss? Cashmere's brother? Are we talking about the same person here?"

"Yeah, apparently it drives his sister crazy!" V gushes.

Oberon tuts.

"V you're over exaggerating it! He just has a soft spot."

A soft spot…I could use that.

They continue to spurt their inane babble which is only partially helpful but at least it stops them looking like a congregation at a funeral.

Part of me hopes that I am just to be left naked. Up until that moment I'd forgotten about the inevitable parade costume.

I'm alone for a little longer than is comfortable after the Prep Team leave me for Gaia. When she finally arrives, she looks the splitting image of the woman who bustled in, having already written me off, four years ago.

"Sorry I'm late," she breezes, dropping one of her two gold bags to the floor. "Outfit is in here. How are you feeling?"

"Like someone just dragged me back into my worst nightmare," I reply, peering into the bag. I spot leaves. "Another tree?"

"Of course. You're District 7, District 7 do trees," she says bluntly. "Listen, have you heard from Lalaney?"

I falter in my probing.

"No…haven't you? I just assumed that after last year she couldn't take it anymore and wanted to spend more time with her daughter." I bite my lip nervously.

"She hasn't called you?"

I think.

"No… I tried to call her once or twice but got no answer…"

"Should we be worried?" Gaia frowns, or what passes for frowning for her.

"Probably, if something's happened to her then I'm sure we'll find out sooner rather than later."

"Yes, I thought so too, I just hate waiting. Anyway better dash!" She slings the second gold bag over her shoulder.

"That's it?" I gape. "Lalaney's missing, here's your outfit, bye."

Gaia bats her eyelashes blankly.

"What else were you expecting?"

What else was I expecting really? I don't know.

"I don't know," I shake my head. "Just go."

"Right." She turns on her heels. "Got to get this bag to Blight."

"Did you fall out with your styling partner again?" I throw out venomously.

"No, I told them I wanted to style you both this year," she replies without looking back.

Oh…I guess that's as sentimental as it's going to get between us. Just before she disappears, she pokes her head back through the door.

"Bumped into a friend of yours in the corridor. Flavia or something?"

Flavia? I don't know any Flav—

"Fulvia?"

"Yes, that's the one. She asked me if I knew if you could swim. I said I didn't know. Can you?"

Can I swim? Why would Fulvia be asking that? I can't do anymore undercover missions when I'm being watched 24/7 now I'm a Tribute.

"Barely." I can splash about a bit and just about stay above water. I'm certainly no water baby, so I hope the arena this year isn't a choppy ocean. It's not up to me though is it; it's the blessed Gamemakers.

Like Plutarch, I bet he knows all about the arena. It's funny that he's not sharing information _now. _I wonder how he feels about me and Finnick, his prize spies, being thrown into his carefully designed death trap, along with the Mockingjay herself.

I pull on Gaia's awful outfit. More scratchy leaves, ridiculous slippers, a headdress. I stand in front of the mirror and scowl at myself. Thank goodness Gaia isn't designing the arena, I guess that's some comfort.

Why does Fulvia want to know if I can swim? Even if it was to pass information on to Plutarch, it's too late for him to change the arena for little old me! Unless…was this Fulvia getting a message to _me_? The arena has a large water element. Can I swim, because I need to. How stupid of me to not realise!

A call comes through that it's time to start gathering at the chariots. I rustle out to take a peek at my competition. I wonder how many of them can swim. Finnick and Mags will be able to obviously, and the Careers have got the physical strength.

Cashmere is over at the District 1 chariot, tugging at strands of gold woven in to her hair. She's ranting at her brother about something. He holds his hands out to her but she bats them away and stalks off. I bet he's glad he volunteered now; I hope he didn't do it just to spend quality time with his big sister.

I find the District 7 chariot and give the chestnut brown horse an absent-minded pat before I pull myself up onto the chariot.

I think about the last time I was here. Pretending to be weepy, hiding behind my hair, trying to destroy my clothes and falling off the chariot.

Old friends are chatting, there's a shared joke, this is so different from last time I was here. There's one Tribute milling around on her own.

The Girl On Fire is looking subdued. Her outfit is equally demure, a plain black jumpsuit with a wrought metal tiara on her head. It screams 'reigning champion'. She still looks like weedy District 12 Cornucopia fodder to me.

The District 2 Careers are already on their chariots trying to look supreme, just like in my year and there's still that handsome District 4 Tribute but this time he's walking towards me.

"Oh crap," I moan. "Is anyone looking? I'm embarrassed to be seen with you right now."

Finnick is wrapped in an enormous, winding fishing net knotted, conveniently, at his crotch. That is all.

"This coming from the tree? Well someone was spreading a rumour that I had scaly skin last year, so I had to prove them wrong. Nice to see you by the way." He smiles and I'm taken right back to every other time that I've seen that smile and it's made me feel better.

"Hi," I grin. "You ok?"

"Not really but what can you do?" He pops something into his mouth and crunches loudly on it.

"Where did you get something to eat? I want something to eat. What are you eating?"

He holds up a square shape as white as his proud smile.

"Sugar cubes."

"Those are for the horses!" I exclaim. "All the food in the Capitol and you are eating horse food?!"

"Horse d'oeuvres," he grins.

I double over grabbing my waist and groaning.

"Ahh, my sides! They're splitting." Then I stand up straight and roll my eyes. "No wonder Annie had a meltdown at the thought of coming with you this year."

"Yup. As usual Mason you've managed to sum up one of the most traumatic moments of my life into a single sarcastic comment."

I wink, "Always here to help."

"Then help. Katniss is behind me?"

I look over his shoulder.

"Yup."

"Is she looking?"

"No, she's having a staring competition with her chariot, aloof as always."

He raises an eyebrow, "Wanna see me make her really uncomfortable?"

I wince.

"You're not going to tell the horse joke again are you?"

He pulls a face and then points at me as he backs away.

"Hey Mason, you need to trim your bush."

I flick him a view of my middle finger.

"I'm not afraid to blacken an eye before the opening number you know Odair!"

Beside me there's another rustle of leaves as Blight arrives. We look each other up and down and shake our heads together.

"You packing?" I ask.

"Of course." He pulls a hipflask from…somewhere and hands it to me. I take the last swig and throw the flask off the side of the chariot.


	81. Glowing Embers

**A/N- Disclaimer time! **

**My hold on Johanna loosens in this chapter. In all the other chapters I could say that all her words were mine, but in this chapter some belong to Suzanne Collins and not me. *sob* **

**Chapter Eighty-One- Glowing Embers**

There's a short cry of surprise as the hipflask drops.

Blight and I peer over the side of the chariot and see another familiar face. It's Cinna.

"Trying to take out the opposition, that's a fair strategy. Taking out the opposition's Stylist…that's just desperate," he smiles.

"I'll be back in a sec, don't let them leave without me," I tell Blight and Cinna holds out his hand to help me down to his level.

"Don't fall," he says, his bright white grin widening.

"Ok that's the last time someone gets to make that joke," I warn, but return his grin. "How've you been?"

"Busy, been helping Katniss with her fashion line."

"Of course, sign me up for one of her diamond encrusted cocktail dresses." I sneer.

"You know your words sound nice but they give me a cold shudder."

"I've always liked how intuitive you are Cinna."

Our eyes come into electrically charged contact and he reaches out to cup my jaw.

"My two favourite girls going head-to-head…" he breathes.

"Am I one of those two?" I ask.

"It's between you and three other candidates at the moment, I couldn't say. It's a close call though." His smile turns sad. "You and Katniss really could be good friends you know. Promise me you'll try."

"Do I have too?" I whine like a petulant child.

"Just talk to her. Finnick is, look," We look over to where Finnick is obviously putting some moves on Katniss and she is looking more than uncomfortable.

"I know that where Finnick goes, you will follow," Cinna adds.

"You make me sound like a little puppy."

"Not a puppy, definitely not a puppy…maybe a rottweiler."

"Very funny."

"Promise me. You two could be good together, lethal." He takes a strand of my short hair in his fingers and twirls in his finger. It's grown back a little since I cut it but it's sticking out in about fifteen different directions under my headdress and I wouldn't let my Prep Team even brush it.

"You do this to yourself again?" Cinna asks, twisting the strand into a curl that sits at my temple.

My eyes hit the floor.

"Yes."

"You won't let Gaia fix it?"

I shake my head.

"Will you let me fix it?" he says almost seductively.

I shake my head again.

"I need to feel how I was…I mean how I used to feel when I was like that…no thank you."

He nods, understanding.

The other Tributes are getting onto their chariots around me and I hear the screeching of the gigantic doors opening to let us out for the parade.

"I better go, that's my cue," I tell him and he takes his hands away from my face.

I feel cold at the distance between us.

"Promise me you'll talk to Katniss. It's important…not just for me."

Our eyes meet again and I get it. I need to be buddies with the Mockingjay. It's a rebellion thing. Hmm we'll see.

I mount the chariot again and clap Blight on the back.

"Put your Game Face on old man, here we go again."

Our chariot jerks into motion and we follow District 6 out into the street.

The sound of the crowd as we emerge is breathtaking. It's louder than it's ever sounded and yet it's dripping with regret and pity for us. I see some of my 'dates'. They tip their hats at me. I wonder if, after my death, any of them will try to claim that they were the last person to sleep with me. Perverts. I wave sweetly to them. I still need sponsors.

The chariots pull into the City Circle and as we circle it we get a good view of all the other Tributes' costumes.

Beetee and Wiress are beaming bright in replicas of Cinna's burning design from last year. They look like blinking computers and are holding each other tightly.

Finnick is in his silly net but, thankfully, Mags is wearing a tiny white slip under hers to give her a little more dignity. She has in her hand a white lily that I saw somebody throw for Finnick but he passed it to her.

Dark-haired Solange from District 5 has an elaborate headdress made of mirrors; I'm not sure how that represents Power but never mind.

The morphlings from District 6 are facing completely the wrong way and are looking straight at Blight and I.

"What are they staring at?" I say through gritted teeth.

"Right now they're probably transfixed by the talking trees," he replies.

"No…" I sway but their focus doesn't change. "They're not looking at us." I turn around too. Three chariots away from us are a pair of cows on fire. Some of the stylists have taken Cinna's idea a little too far.

As we progress around the circle I spot what has the morphlings so interested.

A soft glow comes from the 12th chariot in our procession. Their costumes look like smouldering coal and the light blends and shifts around the jumpsuit just like a real fire. I know exactly what Cinna and his styling partner meant with these outfits. Katniss and Peeta are the burning embers in our fire, ready and waiting to set everything alight.

We stop in formation for President Snow's speech about how special this year's show will be blah blah blah but most eyes are on our District 12 friends. I'm pretty sure even Snow's eyes are. I feel them flicker onto me for a moment before a sly smile plays at the corner of his puffy lips. He thinks I'll take Katniss out. He thinks he knows me. Well now I _have_ to make friends with Katniss. Damn it.

The chariots roll once more around the circle and then in through the doors to the Training Center.

Gaia and the Prep Teams are waiting for us and V helps me down.

"Told you we didn't have to belt her in this time," she says to the rest of the team.

"That's another 'falling off the chariot' joke. Well done."

"Where's Egor?" Blight peers around us.

"Talking to Mags." Gaia nods over to the District 4 chariot.

Mags is chattering away and Egor is nodding thoughtfully while Finnick is deep in conversation with the District 4 Mentors, Sandy and Vic.

"—toyed with a rehash of your first Interview outfit, you know to see how much you've transformed but…Johanna are you listening?" Gaia demands.

"No," I reply. "Just do whatever you want, you usually do."

There's a loud cry of laughter from somewhere and we all turn to see where it's come from. Chaff has Katniss in a tight one-armed embrace and is pulling away from her. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve and looks stunned.

Chaff and Haymitch are bent over double laughing. Even Chaff is making friends with the Chosen One.

Cinna notices that I'm watching and beckons me over with a slight flick of the finger.

I shake my head but he tilts his to one side and raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, can you vacate this area, it needs to be cleared," some attendants are barking, bustling people towards the elevators.

I roll my eyes at Cinna and fix on a fake smile. I stride quickly up to the group before they can get on an elevator. Cinna grins and steps back to let me get in next to Katniss.

As I stop my headdress tilts and one of the branches snags my ear. I snatch it off my head and fling it away behind me. I don't follow its trajectory but I hear somebody hiss as it lands. That puts me in a better mood.

I've caught Katniss's attention now, I can see she's watching me with suspicion in her eyes. She knows who I am. Good. I ruffle up my hair where it's been pushed down by the stupid headdress and roll my eyes at her.

"Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our Tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I'd got Cinna. You look fantastic."

Girl talk, that should loosen her up. I couldn't be less interested in discussing hair, accessories and fashion but she's got a clothing line in progress so I'm hoping that this'll get her talking.

"Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet."

Yawn.

"I have." I frantically try to remember any outfits I've seen her in that might be velvet. "On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District 2? The deep blue on with the diamonds." I _think_ that was velvet. I smile sweetly. "I wanted to reach right through the screen and tear it right off your back."

And if I happened to remove a layer of skin with that then all the better, I think.

Then, in the corner of my eye, I see Finnick, still half naked in his net, talking to Cashmere and Gloss. They're waiting for the next elevator. Katniss had seemed pretty uncomfortable with Finnick's nakedness and I remember her shyness in the arena around Peeta. An idea occurs to me, and Gloss is just over there. If he does have a 'soft spot' for me then this could kill two birds with one stone.

I reach back and undo the zipper on my costume, letting the leaves fall to the floor. I kick it away, towards Finnick and Gloss and then put my hands on my hips as we wait.

"That's better," I say, brushing a single leaf off my bare chest.

Finnick and Gloss turn to see where the moving bush came from and as soon as they see me Cashmere whacks Gloss on the arm and drags him back around to face her.

The elevator arrives and I manage to squeeze in with the District 12 and 11 teams. Chaff and Haymitch are ogling a little _too_ much so I turn my attention to Peeta.

"I hear you're becoming quite the renowned artist Peeta," I say.

"Oh I don't know about that," Peeta blushes, or at least I think he does, the light from his still glowing costume gives the both of us an orangey tinge.

"No, no, it's good. I think I saw a painting you did of…was it a daisy?"

I can feel Katniss's eyes glowing darkly through the smouldering light.

"A dandelion," he corrects me.

"Oh sorry! We're not really into flowers in District 7, they're far too small for us to cut down," I laugh exaggeratedly, reaching out and stroking his arm. "Are you still doing your painting? I'd love to own an original Peeta…" What's his last name?! What's his last name?! "Mellark!"

"I had no idea you were so interested in art, Johanna," Peeta smiles.

"Me either," Haymitch chips in and Seeder covers a smile with her hand.

I throw both of them a silencing look.

"I'm full of surprises."

The elevator doors open at the seventh floor. Home again.

I wave goodbye to the little group and let myself into the suite.

Peeta seemed nice. He didn't stare at my breasts, he looked at my face when he talked to me. I'll probably leave someone else to kill him in the arena.

There's already food being laid on the table by Avoxes so I wander over and pick at a few breadsticks before heading to my room to put on a robe before the others come up.

They're not far behind me, I've just wrapped myself in the fluffy gown when I hear a shriek and a crash.

"A stealthy entrance as usual," I comment coming out to the living area.

Gaia is standing in front of a broken vase, a single rose in her hand and she is staring at the dinner table. They all are actually.

"Ok, I know it's been a while since Egor, Blight and I saw such a spread but what is up with _you_ Gaia?" I frown.

"Johanna…" Blight takes my arm in a vice-like grip and steers me in front of him, aiming me at the table as well.

"What, ow, what are you doing?"

"Just _look_."

"At what?!"

Another Avox lays down a large dish with what looks like a large goose on it. She pours a few drinks and then stands back with the rest. Hands clasped behind her back, her head down. She almost has the same colour hair as me, except there's greying at the roots. She has a kind, motherly face though. Her eyes flick up and a stab of realisation shoots through my chest. If I'd been holding a vase with a flower in it I would have dropped it too.

"Lalaney?" I choke.


	82. Only The Best Will Survive

**Chapter Eighty-Two- Only The Best Will Survive **

"Lalaney what's going on?!"" I say desperately. I know I sound like a lost child but…she's my Capitol Mom. What have they done to my Capitol Mom?

"She can't speak Johanna, no tongue, that's the Avox deal," Blight says softly.

"No, no don't say that," I shake off his hand, and head slowly towards the line of Avoxes. "What happened?" I ask my old Escort. She looks so small, so plain without her Capitol heels and make-up.

She looks down at the ground, shaking her head. The other Avoxes are looking at her now. One of them is looking a little too intently, they're probably rewarded for telling on each other.

"The rest of you get out of here!" I order.

Melanita steps forward.

"Johanna you're not supposed to talk to them unless you're getting them to do something."

With a face like thunder, I hiss at her,

"And from now on you do not talk unless I talk to you!" Then back to the Avoxes. "What you deaf as well as mute? All of you get out!"

They lead off in a line, leaving the saddened one in front of me.

I take Lalaney's hands in mine.

"Was it because of me?" I swallow hard.

She shakes her head.

"I don't believe you." I whisper. "Your daughter? Your husband?"

Her head falls even lower and she shakes it again. Something shiny splashes to the floor from her face.

"Oh Lalaney, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, feeling her wet tears fall freely onto my shoulder.

Chalk up a couple more fatalities to Johanna Mason.

"I'm sorry," I murmur again.

She pulls away and makes to leave but I don't let her go.

"Stay. Stay here with us. You can have your usual room."

"Excuse me," Melanita pipes up.

"What did I say about not talking unless I say!" I bellow at her. "The newbie can sleep on the sofa. Lalaney stay." Then I drop my voice. "I need you to stay."

She shakes her head one more time and puts a cold hand against my cheek. I look up into her eyes and she gives me a weak smile. She chucks me on the chin and spells out a four-letter word with her fingers in the air.

_Live._

"I'll try."

She pulls away from me, only to be seized by Gaia.

"You stupid, stupid girl," Gaia sobs.

The guilt bears down on my chest like a great weight. Snow said that he knew I was up to something, but not what. Had he already cut out Lalaney's tongue and killed her family by then?

Lalaney gets passed on to Blight, who drops a tender kiss to her cheek. We were a family of sorts and now Mother has no tongue, and Father and Daughter are headed into a fight to the death while Grandpa watches.

I hate Panem. I hate the Capitol. I _hate_ Snow.

A knock on the door precedes a ratty man letting himself into our suite to scoop up Lalaney. He apologises for her overstaying her welcome and I lunge forwards to knee him in the most sensitive parts. Blight catches me and holds me tight against his body as the ratty man takes hold of Lalaney and drags her away from us.

"This has been done to upset you," Blight says in my ear. "To upset _us_. If you react like this then Snow wins. He won't hesitate in sending a platoon of Peacekeepers up here to beat you within an inch of your life, and then you start the Game with broken ribs and a massive disadvantage."

"I'd like to see them try," I murmur gruffly.

"Take it to Training tomorrow, "Gaia suggests. "I'll be up bright and early with your Training outfit. For now I think I need a drink. Blight would you care to join me?"

Blight releases me.

"Just let me get out of this…thing." He indicates the tree he's still wearing and heads to his room.

"Stay in the building!" I call to him before I slam my own bedroom door.

I burn some energy punching a pillow before curling up on the man-eating bed and falling into a restless sleep. Half way through the night I wake and realise how hungry I am.

This won't do at all. I'm facing a few weeks with little to no food at all and here I am crawling out of bed feeling like I'm starving. The dinner things haven't been cleared away since I dismissed all the Avoxes so I unceremoniously cram as much food as possible into my mouth. While I'm chewing on a chunk of lamb I play with the knife.

I pretend that Snow is sitting in the chair directly opposite from me.

"You think you're going to win don't you," I say to him, fingering the end of the blade. "You think you're sooo clever. But I'm not done yet, despite your best efforts, I'm not done." I sling the knife across the table and it sticks in the back of 'Snow's' chair.

If the suite's been bugged, like I'm pretty sure it has, whoever's listening might think I'm talking to another Tribute. Let them.

The phone rings just as I'm getting up to go back to bed. I think about ignoring it, but then I remember Blight is out drinking so it might be the hospital wing asking me to come and pick him up.

"Hello?"

"_Mason, are you watching the TV right now?" _comes Finnick's voice. It sounds urgent but there's a tinge of humour in his tone.

"No, it's two am! We've got Training in the morning!"

"_Turn it on! Quick!" _

I sigh and, cradling the phone in the crook of my neck, reach for the remote.

On the screen I'm assaulted with a close-up view of Katniss holding her bowstring right against her cheek, ready to release it.

"What is this?" I ask Finnick.

There's music running underneath the pictures, it's got a heavy beat and makes Katniss look pretty badass.

"_It's a Propo to get people to watch the Game this year. They've made a few of them, each one focussing on different Tributes. I saw this one about an hour ago and we've been waiting for it to come back on again."_

On the TV screen Katniss releases the arrow and it flies straight through a bag of apples, spilling them to the floor creating an enormous explosion.

The next shot shows us Katniss stumbling across Peeta hidden in the mud.

'Peeta Mellark: District- 12, Victor- 74th Hunger Games, Kills- 1, Previous Training Score- 8' runs across the screen. Then we see some of Peeta's highlights.

We see him backing away from Cato after warning Katniss away. We see him covering himself in mud and then sinking away from sight. Then we see Katniss and Peeta together, in that oh so touching moment in the cave where they kiss.

The screen goes black but the music continues. Another Tribute fills the screen.

"Oh I see why you waited an hour to see this again," I say to the phone. "Aww look how cute you were."

"_Shut up and keep watching."_

'Finnick Odair: District- 4, Victor- 65th Hunger Games, Kills- 6, Previous Training Score- 10'.

Fourteen-year-old Finnick _is_ cute. He's still got the floppy bronze hair but there's still a hint of youth in his rounder cheeks and his neck isn't as thick and muscled as it is now. I watch him squinting against the sun from his podium. He runs for the Cornucopia in a sprint reminiscent of a predator at full speed. He whispers seductively into the ear of his District partner, whoever the poor girl was. He sneaks away from the Career Pack in the night to set up his traps before returning to them. He wakes to find a golden trident, delivered by parachute, at his side. Then come the more disturbing scenes: He heaves a spear through another boy's abdomen. He snags another Career in his net and plunges his trident through the net and his catch's flesh again and again.

The picture fades away once more.

The music slows down to a more touching tempo and when the picture comes up there's no vicious arena scene. Instead it's a sky view of the Tribute Parade. The camera tracks one chariot in particular.

"Oh no…" I know which Game this is.

"_Oh yes!"_

The chariot we're tracking stops suddenly and we cut to a camera on the ground. A little tree sits on the floor, holding her face while her hip-length brown hair hangs around her. A trickle of blood runs down her cheek.

'Johanna Mason: District- 7, Victor- 71st Hunger Games, Kills- 7, Previous Training Score- 3.'

"_You've got more kills than me!"_

"Shut up, I'm not watching this."

But I can't take my eyes away. The girl on the screen is on her podium, surrounded by little saplings to make escaping the bloodbath a little harder. She wiggles her fingers cheekily at the camera.

"_I loved that bit, like you wanted everyone to see who you really were." _

"I was doing it to Absalom, to throw him off because he'd been so arrogant."

"_Sure you were._"

Next we see the girl bounding up a tree to pull up logs to make a platform to sleep on. Then she's in the Cornucopia taking off her shoes. Then running barefoot, hair streaming behind her. Then cradling a dying boy in her arms.

The music picks up again and the girl has her hands around another Tribute's neck. She viciously slices away her own hair in clumps. She has a knife in her hand and is opening the neck of a weak girl. She flings a mace and stands over the beautiful wheezing victim.

The music comes to a crashing crescendo just as the girl swings an axe at the legs of two Careers. Before the axe connects, the music stops and the screen goes black again.

In the silence at the end of the propo the four Tributes featured stand side by side and a big title runs across the bottom saying,

'Third Quarter Quell- Only The Best Will Survive.'

"Are they pitting us directly against Katniss and Peeta?"

"_Sure looks like it_._ Tomorrow's going to be fun in the Training Room isn't it? I saw your…ahem display earlier. Was that for Peeta's benefit or mine?" _

"Neither actually. I saw how repulsed Katniss was by you so thought I'd try my luck."

"_Well Gloss enjoyed it too in case you were wondering, Cashmere's probably trying to beat the image of your breasts out of his head right now."_

"All man-made I can assure you. I have to go to sleep now and have terrible nightmares thanks to you."

"_Anytime. See you tomorrow. Bring you're A-Game, I can't wait to train with Johanna Mason." _

"Start warming up now. Good night."

I never thought of it that way. I'm going to be training with some of the fiercest warriors in the whole nation. I'm also going to be training with my best friend and members of the rebellion.

I settle back into bed feeling pretty optimistic about the next few days.

When I wake up staring into the face of my hungover Stylist, I feel less optimistic.

She shakes a bag, gags and rushes into my bathroom.

"I'm too old for this," I hear her moan.

"Then why have you done it?" I call through to her as I unpack the gold bag.

Black pants with a drawstring at the waistband and a cream coloured vest with matching cardigan.

"I don't really know what happened. I was matching Blight and then I lost him…somewhere." Gaia emerges from the bathroom. She tries to fix on my 'District 7' label but the smell of her breath makes me wince and I push her away.

"What do you mean you lost him?" I say, focusing on the pins.

"Just that. He disappeared!"

"Is he here?"

"I think so. There's someone in his bed. He's not moving though. Told me he's not up for training today. Maybe tomorrow."

I slip on some sneakers.

"Is that allowed? I thought you had to go to training."

"It's up to him. If he wants to go into the arena without having learnt any new skills then so be it." Gaia turns green again and claps a hand over her mouth. "Now if that's all, I'll be going." She hurries out and I hear the suite door bang behind her.

When it's time to go down to the Training Room I go on my own. The elevator also picks up Wiress and Beetee and we stand in silence. Beetee helped me with a mission before, no doubt his reaping is his punishment for such, but I can't imagine either of them will be much use in the arena so there's no point in exchanging pleasantries with them.

When the doors open to the Training Room we see the poor turnout. 2, 12, 6, and the male from 5 are already there. Atala, the head trainer, starts her speech about safety for the benefit of our small group. Finnick and Mags arrive halfway through and stand to the side of me.

"Where you hitting first?" I ask out of the corner of my mouth.

"Hand-To-Hand, you?" Finnick replies, putting his arm around Mags.

"Swords, just in case I can't get my hands on an axe."

"Solid plan. Alliances?"

"Gonna wait and see who approaches me first."

Atala finishes and we are free to mill around the various stations.

We split up and I head to the Sword Fighting Station. Cashmere is already there, caressing one of the blades. She sees me coming, rolls her eyes and moves on.

The trainer tries to teach me some fruity dancing moves but I'm having none of it and lunge over and over. After a while I get bored and take a look around to see what everyone else are trying their hands at.

I see Finnick give up at the Hand-To-Hand Station and swagger over to the knot-tying station where he's somewhat of an expert.

Katniss is already there. He reaches around her and fixes something for her. She has her back to me but I don't think she receives it very well. He then messes around with another piece of rope and holds whatever it is up to her. She turns away and changes stations to get away from him. I laugh. This must be a new experience for Finnick. He looks up and sees me laughing. He shows me what he'd showed Katniss. A noose. He mimes hanging himself with it for a giggle. I don't give him the pleasure; just roll my eyes and progress to the Hand-To-Hand Station.

I get there just as the trainer is showing Gloss how to restrain someone's limbs on the ground. It involves planting a foot on a wrist, a hand on the other and full bodyweight on the pelvis. It reminds me of how Clove pinned Katniss last year. Worked out well for her didn't it?

"Are you sure we're not allowed to practice on each other?" I ask the trainer. "That looks like fun…" I wink at Gloss. Time to get in his head. "But surely that kind of move is more suited to someone smaller and more supple. Gloss here is _far_ too buff and brawny for that isn't he? Not that I've got anything against buff and brawny, in fact I quite like buff and brawny."

"I can show you this move in a minute if you like, Miss Mason," the trainer gushes.

"That's ok, I'm happy just watching for now…"

It works. Gloss gets self-conscious and lets the trainer floor him twice. When it's my turn to come up, the trainer asks me if I'd like to practice restraint, defence or attack.

"Why don't we try a bit of wrestling?" I say, stripping off my clothes again. I use a pot of oil to grease myself up.

I feel more than just Gloss's eyes on me. It's ok though, because if they're looking at me then they're not training and after all 'Only The Best Will Survive'.


	83. By Myself

**Chapter Eighty-Three- By Myself**

I have a bit of fun with the wrestling trainer. With all the oil on my body he cannot get a hold of me and I flip him onto his face on five separate occasions. After the fifth time, he rubs his collarbone and compliments me on my technique.

"But I don't know where you're going to find that much grease in the arena to implement it," he says.

"I wouldn't last very long against most of these guys hand-to-hand anyway," I breeze, picking up a rag to rid myself of the worst of the oil before I put my training outfit back on.

The red head from District 10 takes her turn at hand-to-hand but I don't bother sticking around to watch.

Finnick and Mags are helping each other out at archery so I head over to join them. It won't be long until lunch anyway.

Mags's hands are a little shaky taking the strain of the bowstring but the trainer shows her to stick out her elbow and press the string into her cheek at the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have lunch with us?" Finnick asks me while we wait for our turn with the trainer and the bow.

"Is that a formal alliance request?" I raise an eyebrow.

"It's a formal lunch request. You haven't impressed me enough this morning for an alliance."

The trainer passes me a bow and I use it to bop Finnick on the head.

"How about now?"

"Yup, great…if you were trying to ward a shark away from your boat."

"Could happen…" I say stubbornly, lining up my first arrow. A thought occurs to me as I release it. I turn around and offer him the bow. "Hey, do you swim?"

He takes the bow in his left hand and then offers me his right.

"Hi I'm Finnick Odair, apparently we haven't met before. Of course I swim!" He fires an arrow almost lazily and it _just_ skims the target. "Have you had a head injury?"

"No! I mean do you swim here? In the Capitol."

"Not as much as I'd like. There're usually _other things _to distract me."

"Where do you swim?"

"Why?"

"No reason…" It probably won't be any benefit to Finnick to learn Fulvia's information about needing to swim in this year's arena so I'll keep that information to myself for now.

"There's a pool here," Finnick tells me, watching Mags again.

"In the Training Room?" I frown.

"Of course not idiot!" He nudges me with his elbow. "It's down by The Hub, I used to go down there to wake myself up during a long shift. Your turn again."

Hmm ok, so there is a swimming pool in the building, who knew?

I'm just about to release my next arrow when Finnick lays a hand on my shoulder.

Surprised, I shoot the arrow off towards the Sword station by accident and the two Tributes there dive out of the way.

"What did you do that for?!" I glare at him.

Then I notice that there's another presence at our station.

"Trying to scare off a few Tributes already?" Peeta laughs nervously, his eyes flicking over to the two angry Tributes at the Sword station.

"The Game starts early," I reply. "What are you doing here Blondie? Can't your fiancée teach you archery?"

Finnick puts two fingers against my lips.

"What she means is: 'Hi how are you? Do you need any help at all?'" he corrects me. "Finnick." He holds out his hand towards our new friend.

"Peeta." He shakes it with a smile on his face. He's being very friendly considering Finnick was putting the moves on his fiancée last night.

"And this shrew is Johanna, don't worry the nastiness is just a disguise to mask her… general unpleasantness."

"Pleasure to meet you." I do a little curtsy before turning and addressing the archery target. I'm a little better than Finnick but not much.

Mags has become engaged in a conversation with Woof from District 8 so I just have the boys for company now.

"Your turn Blondie." I toss the bow at him, which he catches deftly.

"Thanks."

As soon as his back is turned I smack Finnick's chest.

"General unpleasantness?"

"Oh come on you were immediately on the offensive."

"Duh! He's the enemy!"

"Not if he's an ally Mason!"

"Oh you sound just like Cinna."

"Is that any surprise?"

I guess they are both on the same side.

Peeta is even worse than Finnick at archery. The trainer put his head in his hands. We really are a hopeless band for him. Odair steps up.

"So where is the fashionista herself at the moment then? You guys aren't glued at the hip like I thought you would be," I say to Peeta, bridging the silence.

"She's…err…" He looks around for her. "Ah…over there!"

We both spot her at the same time. She's over at the Shelter station with Beetee and Wiress, looking up at the Gamemakers on their balcony.

"She's with…oh what are their names?" Peeta fumbles. "From District 3."

"Oh that's Beetee and Wiress, she's off her rocker and he won his game by electrocuting the other Tributes," Finnick explains.

"Good old Nuts and Volts," I mutter, taking the bow again. "I bet they're having a _fascinating_ conversation about electronic microchips or whatever." Or they're discussing the rebellion and how they're going to keep each other alive at the expense of the rest of us.

Would Beetee do that? I know he helped me before but he needs all the allies he can get to help him in the arena. Katniss is pretty fierce so I can see why he'd go to her but what would make her choose to help him, except the rebellion. I've got a distinct suspicion that she won't be coming to Finnick or me.

"Or maybe Katniss is boring them with patterns and fabrics," Peeta chuckles and looks over with a tenderness.

Finnick and Peeta joke around a little about how bad they are at archery before the doors open for lunch. Mags and Woof return and pull us away from the archery station for Chaff and Seeder to join us at the door. They all clap Peeta on the back as we go into the dining area, he's clearly been making friends all morning. I head for one of the tables in the middle but before I can pull out a chair, Finnick has grabbed the table and is pulling it towards the others.

"Come on, we're being sociable," he says quietly to me, winking.

I groan but follow.

Cashmere and Gloss are on the fringe of the group, sitting together with their hastily gathered lunch of long, thin pasta and meat sauce. I keep a weary eye on them all through lunch. I've every suspicion that they're only here to see what useful information they can gather from the idle chitchat.

Peeta peels off to partner Katniss at the food carts.

"What do you think about that pair then?" I nod to the 'happy couple'.

"He's alright, she's a little abrasive," Chaff replies. "But Haymitch has every confidence that she's going to be an ideal…mockingjay."

I let loose an expression of indifference.

"Johanna's just jealous because she's not the biggest bitch at the table anymore," Cashmere puts in.

I look her slowly up and down and reply,

"_That's_ for sure."

"She certainly needs fattening up, come with me honey, let's get some lunch." Cecilia from District 8 pats my elbow and makes me get up with her.

Finnick catches my arm and makes an order for me to collect for him. I grit my teeth but agree to get him something.

"You mustn't let people goad you dearie," Cecilia says to me as we pile up our plates. "I'd hate for you to make a silly mistake because of it."

I immediately think about Merade from District 5 and her 'silly mistake'. I agree with Cecilia. She seems nice enough, perhaps too nice to last very long unfortunately.

When we return to the table, Katniss and Peeta have settled in between Beetee and Chaff. I drop Finnick's plate down in front of him and take my seat.

"Oh…" he groans. "I hate the taste of runner beans."

"Oh sorry," I chide. "Here…" I take a handful of the runner beans and dump them on his head. "How do you like them as a hat?"

There's an almighty roar of laughter. I even see the twitch of a smile on Cashmere's lips.

After that, lunch gets a little noisier. Everyone's talking across the table, and swapping food and tales.

"—lifted all five children up and carried them all straight back to school. Think they can play hooky and not get caught!"

"Honestly, wind in your hair, there's nothing like it…"

"Is that plum sauce?! Where did you get that from? Can I take a spoonful?"

"Johanna can you move down a little? I'm all squashed here and Solange keeps elbowing me in the face when she cuts her potatoes.

It's odd to think that all these people will be fighting each other in a few days. I mean Solange is elbowing Enobaria now, but in a few days Enobaria could be ripping out Solange's throat with her teeth.

Chaff stands up to try to reach a jug of water. He's about an inch away.

"Katniss…" he says sweetly. "Could you give me…a hand." He waves his stump at her.

Finnick chokes on his own drink with laughter. I happily bang him on the back.

"All that time spent in the water Odair and it's finally getting its revenge."

The food carts are eventually towed away and it's time for us to return to training.

Katniss seems a little different after lunch. Maybe her brief chat with Peeta has allayed her fears about the rest of us. Perhaps our jovial spirit has melted her icy demeanour. I see her talking with Cecelia and Woof at one station and Finnick drags Mags over to introduce her. She still seems pretty cold with Finnick but is a little warmer to Mags. I don't know how anyone could be rude to Mags though. She talks to Cashmere and Gloss, and Enobaria too. This makes me dislike her even more. It's one thing for her to make alliances with the other rebels but…Cashmere and Gloss, and Enobaria _can't _be rebels, they're _Careers_!

She doesn't come over to talk to me. I think she's about to but she bypasses the Shelter station where I am and heads to archery instead.

My trainer tries to show me a shelter that I could make using fallen leaves but I'm too distracted. Katniss is showing off. The standing targets that the rest of us barely managed to scratch are posing no problem for her. The trainer starts throwing some up in the air for her. She picks them off no problem as well, even when the trainer throws more than one at a time.

When she finishes, she turns around and sees us all staring. Even Brutus has stopped, a set of weights resting lazily across his shoulders.

She reacts with the most transparently forced humility I've ever seen.

I make sure I steer clear of her for the rest of the day. If she thinks showing off will get my attention, then she's absolutely wrong.

At the end of the day I share an elevator with Finnick, Mags, Solange and the green-looking male from District 5.

"Any alliance requests today?" I ask everyone.

Finnick shares a look with Mags.

"I think we'll be making a few," he says.

Solange nods too. Her male partner just shrugs.

"What about you?" Finnick asks.

"Not sure…I think allies might slow me down."

Finnick laughs heartily.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see."

He and Mags get off at the fourth floor and Solange and her District partner exit at the fifth. I ride the rest of the way on my own thinking over the possibility of alliances. The only people I could bear to be around for any length of time are Finnick and Mags but, if it came to it, I really couldn't kill either of them.

The elevator stops at my floor and I'm greeted at the door by Egor and Melanita.

"Oh hello Johanna dear," Egor says grinning broadly. "We were just going to go down and see if we could hustle up some sponsors after your first day of training. How did it go?"

I shrug.

Melanita stands in front of the elevator's doors to prevent them from closing and tries to beckon Egor inside, but he is determined to stop a while with me.

"Young Blight didn't go did he?" Egor looks sad.

"No, maybe tomorrow," I quote.

"Probably not tomorrow though ay?" he replies quietly. "Never mind, we won't say anything about it to the sponsors. Oh yes!" He claps his hands together. "Since you're back, do you want us to go and approach any other Mentors about an alliance?"

Darn. I was hoping to delay this decision a little while longer. Hmm.

"Nope." I twirl away from the two of them, putting my hand on the suite door.

"No one?" Melanita frowns. She looks very surprised, which gives me a sickening lurch in my stomach. I remind myself that she's not Lalaney. I don't know her. She could be reporting back to…_anyone _about what I say and do.

"No one," I confirm. "I did it before by myself, I'll do it again by myself." I flick them a cheeky wink. "Tell the sponsors I said 'hi'. See you later."

I might make some alliances, but I think I'll do that by myself as well.


	84. Bangle

**Chapter Eighty-Four- Bangle**

"Not today then?" I lean against Blight's doorframe with my arms crossed.

"Not today," he replies from his bed. "Maybe tomorrow."

I groan loudly.

"No, not _maybe_ tomorrow, definitely tomorrow. You _have_ to come tomorrow, it's Training Score Day tomorrow, you have to be there!"

It's Day Two of training and Blight still has not stirred from his bed. I tried to share some of my newly gained information with him last night but he feigned sleepiness and I gave up. He's got a death wish.

Finnick manages to flirt his way into getting archery lessons from Katniss, which results in a stony silence between us at lunch. I hang out with Peeta for half an hour at the camouflage station. I even joke with him…just once.

I get a smile out of Gloss when I juggle with three axes, Gunnar showed me how to do that, and Brutus chuckles when we swap instructors at spear-throwing and I 'tag' him in.

"You're it," I pat his thick chest and skip over to join Cecilia at hammock-making.

Overall we have a good time, us old hats, and when I get in the elevator at the end of the day I have almost forgotten about why we're all here.

Blight is on the sofa with a newspaper when I get into the suite.

"Productive day?" I kick off my training shoes.

"Rather," he lowers the paper. "Met up with some old friends."

"Oh I see," I lay across the sofa, placing a cushion under my head so I can still see him past my manmade chest. "There's me, sweating it out with trained killers while you're having cocktails with buddies."

Blight purses his lips and raises his paper again.

"Ok fine no need to sulk about it, tell me about your friends!" I groan.

"No, no, you're not interested," he says sweetly. "I mean one of them gave me a present to give to you but since you're _so_ tired from training…"

"I want the present!" I sit up.

"No, no, I'm boring you, I can see."

"Shut up and give me the present!" I demand.

With a flip of the wrist he produces something that catches the light and glints.

"What is that?" I squint at it. "A bracelet?"

"A bangle." He swings it around on his finger. "Gold too. It's a shame you're not interested in what I have to say."

"I'm interested! What do you have to say? I'm listening."

He flicks the bangle over to me and I catch it in two hands.

"It's huge!" I exclaim, slipping it easily over my hand. It falls all the way down to my elbow.

"That's because it's a man's bangle."

All of a sudden this is all smelling very fishy.

"Why do I have a man's bangle as a present?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"I never said it was a present _for_ you. It's a present that I had to give to you to give to someone else."

I frown, trying to work out the logic of what he's saying.

"A present that I have to give someone else?"

"Yes."

"That's not fair." I turn the bangle over my wrist. It has a little embellishment on it, a pattern that looks like flames. "Who's it from?"

"I see you've noticed the detail."

Flames. The Girl on Fire. Damn it. Who is she sending gifts to and when did I become a delivery girl?!

"What's it for?" I drop the bangle noisily onto the coffee table in a strop.

"Buying an alliance I believe." Blight goes back to his newspaper, signifying the end of our conversation.

But who do I have to give it to?!

"Why am I delivering it? I haven't issued any alliance requests and Egor says that nobody's approached him. I'm not being the middleman."

Blight sighs and briefly lowers the paper again.

"Let's just say it would looks a little weird if _my friend _or I gave him jewellery! And he would treasure a token gift from you a little more."

He…he…He would treasure a token from me a little more…it wouldn't look weird if I gave him jewellery.

Urgh. There's only one person it could be. Finnick.

I roll my eyes.

12 is courting 4, just as predicted.

I think that's what's bothering me about this transaction. Yeah I'm sure that's what it is, the underhandedness of trying to buy an alliance. I'm sure it's nothing to do with the feeling that someone I've sworn to hate is trying to take custody of my best friend.

"Thanks," I mutter to Blight, picking it up again to take it to my room.

I lay on my bed, copying Blight's motion and swinging it around my index finger.

Maybe I'll just sling it on the floor in front of Finnick tomorrow morning. Let it jingle to a stop at his feet while everyone watches.

It reeks of a cruel schoolyard prank. Hey Johanna, we've got an extra space at our table at lunch…will you ask Willow if she wants to sit with us?

The fire pattern catches the light and almost flickers. I hate it. I sling the bangle onto my bedside table, where it hits the base of the lamp and knocks something to the floor. I roll over to pick it up. It's this year's pinecone. I thought about bringing my locket but it made my heart ache to think about Red going back into the arena with me and Finnick, so I left it in a box under the floorboards of the crawlspace where Little Joey and I had intended to hide.

The pinecone sits prickly in my palm. I finger the scales of the cone, absentmindedly counting them.

Five, six, seven.

Don't see why Finnick would _want _to join Katniss, he'll do just fine on his own.

Eight, nine, ten, eleven.

Why didn't Haymitch just give the bangle to Finnick's Mentors, Vic or Sandy? Why have I been involved at all?

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

It's this crap about 'it would look weird coming from me or my friend', thing that's starting to niggle. Why would it look weird for Haymitch to be giving Finnick a bangle? I mean aside from the obvious…romantic connotations, but then _everyone_ is in love with Finnick Odair.

Fifteen, sixteen.

A bangle with a fire pattern on it…representing…the Girl on Fire. That Haymitch doesn't want to give Finnick himself. He needs me to give it to him.

Seventeen.

A bangle representing the Girl on Fire that Haymitch doesn't want people to know is _from_ the Girl on Fire. That's why _I _have to give it. Aww crap, this is another mission for Agent Mason isn't it? I hope Finnick understands what it's about more than I do.

The rebellion really is relying on me being able to deduce all this for myself. It's lucky that I _am_ as intelligent as they assume I am.

Now I just have to work out how I'm going to get it to him. I can't just fling it at him during training tomorrow like I first planned to.

In the morning I'm relieved to see Blight at the breakfast table.

He's got a teacup lifted up to his face as he drains the last of whatever was in it.

"Morning," I say to him, Egor and Melanita.

"Morning," they all reply, except Blight, who belches instead.

"Don't tell me you're…" I relieve him of his cup and sniff the inside. "Blight! We've got our private sessions this afternoon! I can't believe you're drunk!"

"And I can't believe that _you're_ playing Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," he giggles to himself.

"Better than being Mr Slaughtered-One-Boot," I sneer back.

Egor guffaws loudly and claps.

"Get him some black coffee." I order Melanita to her feet. "Maybe if we get enough down you, you'll be sober by lunch time."

Our Escort turns to the sideboard to pour Blight a large mug of steaming coffee.

"Don't you dare throw this," I stoop to hiss in his ear as he stares at the carpet under the table. "I'm not having you choke, get a bad score and die of exposure on day one because we have no sponsors!"

He blinks slowly and my own eyes find the nearest clock in the room.

09:55.

Melanita puts Blight's coffee down in front of him…and he promptly throws up into it.

I bang my fist on the table.

"Make sure he's downstairs before lunch time!" I demand of the others before turning on my heels and heading to the elevator.

I pound the button on the wall angrily. Why is he doing this to himself?! If he were doing it as part of a strategy, well that would be something, but I've got a nasty feeling his only strategy is complete and total self-destruction.

It's only when I get down to the Training Room that I realise that in my anger I've forgotten the bangle. Not that I have any pockets to keep it in, I thought I might confuse Katniss a little by wearing it myself for a while. Never mind. Three days left to pass it over before the arena.

I spend most of the morning ambling around the stations. I always keep one eye on the elevator though, waiting for Blight, who arrives five minutes before they open the doors for lunch. While I'm waiting, I think about what I might do during my session with the Gamemakers.

It's all everyone can talk about during lunch.

"Well I might sing a touching sea shanty about a less than noble wench and a less than savoury activity with a handsome sailor…it's semi-autobiographical" Finnick announces with a wink.

"I'm going to take a nap I think," Mags slurs, her head resting on the heel of her hand, her eyes drooping gently.

"I could do a pretty impressive projectile vomit right now…" Blight murmurs, his head is in his hands as well.

"I don't think it'll be that impressive, there are a few people here prepared to defend their own titles in that field." I nod to the male from 5, and a few others that have thrown up, or come pretty close to it in the Training Room.

"Johanna?" Peeta calls across the table to me. "What will you do?"

"Strip? I've gotten pretty good at that during my time here in the Capitol." I unintentionally catch Cashmere's eye. She too has her own title in _that_ field. "Well I hear that Cashmere does a stunning tap dance, what about you Fang?" I ask Enobaria. "Munching your way through a punchbag?"

She bares her gold-tipped teeth in a threatening smile and it makes my blood run cold.

"Maybe not…" I mutter.

Gloss is called as soon as the food carts are cleared away.

"Good luck handsome." I wiggle my fingers at him as he walks behind me to get to the door.

"Focus!" His sister warns, throwing me a dirty look.

"Mason and Gloss, sitting in a tree…" Finnick hums and I smack him around the head.

When it's his turn to go in, I see a flicker of anxiety in his sea-green eyes before they harden again and he stands up.

Mags pats him on the back and offers him some comforting words of encouragement.

"Good luck handsome," I repeat, giving his arm a squeeze.

He inhales deeply, then exhales loudly, puffing out his cheeks.

"Right." He steps forward, then pauses at the door.

"You ok?" I frown at his hesitation. This isn't very 'Finnick Odair' of him.

"Yeah." He crosses his arms in front of him, seizing the hem of his t-shirt with each hand. He strips it off quickly, baring his muscles for all to see. There we go, _that's_ Finnick Odair.

"District label," Mags reminds him, and he peels off the square saying 'District 4', from the sleeve of his shirt and sticks it on his smooth chest.

He waves and winks before the door closes behind him.

Mags strides in as soon as her name is called, while the Morphlings have to be called a few times each before someone helps them to the door.

"Blight Eriksson." The disembodied voice calls.

Blight moans loudly.

"Just go!" I give him a push. "See you at the other end. Do your best."

He looks green. I think he may actually demonstrate his ability to projectile vomit for them.

"Johanna Mason."

I push through the door, summoning all the confidence I can muster. I step out to the middle of the Training Room, search the faces of the Gamemakers and announce,

"Johanna Mason, District 7. I would have taken my shirt off too but I think most of you have already seen it all before."

I notice Plutarch smother a laugh.

An enormously fat man nods me on…is he the same fat man from four years ago?

I do my juggling trick with the axes and then close my eyes and hit the targets, just like I practiced at home.

Home.

I falter at the last target during a brief twinge of homesickness.

Stop it Johanna! I chastise myself. This is _not_ the time! There's no one left at home, don't waste your time longing for that cold, empty house when you could be _surviving_.

I move around all the other offensive stations, brandishing spears, swords, knives, slingshots, everything I know how to use.

"Ok, thank you Miss Mason. That will be all," someone announces and as tempting as it is to keep the knives in my hands, I replace them and saunter out.

Blight is passed out on the sofa when I get back to the suite. I go to my room to wallow in my homesickness until someone comes to get me for the Training Scores.

I don't even know why I'm homesick. If I do get back there alive, I'll be even more scarred than I am now, physically and emotionally, and I'll be all alone.

If the rebels are planning anything special to get us out of all of this and home safe then they better make their move quickly. Unless they're planning on breaking us out of the arena itself of course…

Melanita knocks on my door when it's time for the scores to be announced.

Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria all score a 10. Brutus pulls 11, so does Finnick. Mags gets a 4 and next to me I feel Egor sag, disappointed for his old friend.

Claudius Templesmith is all decked out in a luminescent suit on the screen. He shuffles the notes in his hand and touches his ear.

"Now on to District 7, our lumber friends, Blight Eriksson."

Blight's photo floats across the screen.

"5."

Melanita touches Blight's knee sympathetically, but I bang him on the back.

"Hungover as_ balls_ and you still do better than Mags! You're a machine Eriksson!"

Melanita makes an attempt to scold me,

"Johanna, 5 is _not _a good score! We're going to really struggle to get sponsors with that!"

"Oh pipe down Carrot-Head!" I scowl at her, then turn back to Blight. "Tell me later how you did that."

Claudius is talking away to himself on the TV.

"—bit of a disappointment I'm sure we all agree. Next, another one we've been looking forward to hearing from: Johanna Mason, also District 7…"

I can't help holding my breath.

"A vast increase on last time for Johanna, she scores an 8!"

8. 8?! Only 8?! My sulk deepens and I sit back in my chair with my arms folded. I juggled axes and hit targets blind! And I only get an 8?!

"That looks good Johanna," Melanita offers.

"Shut up Carrot-Head."

My mood only plummets further when I hear the words:

"And now for District 12: Peeta Mellark…well a Hunger Games first! Peeta Mellark gets a score of 12!"

12?! Blondie got a 12?! And I only got an 8!

"And Katniss Everdeen…oh my goodness another 12! District 12 have smashed it in the Training Room today!"

Yup. Smashed it. Looks like they definitely smashed something. No one gets a 12. Whatever they both did today has made the Gamemakers paint a fluorescent target on their backs.

Great. Now I feel sympathy for Blondie and the Girl on Fire…this day just keeps getting better…


	85. Suspicions

**Chapter Eighty-Five- Suspicions**

Egor wakes me at three in the morning, telling me that I'm late for my interview with Caesar Flickerman. My confused, sleep-addled brain panics and I throw back my bedclothes in a hurry.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?!" I screech, throwing open my closet door. "Gaia hasn't even left me anything, what am I suppose—oh." I start to become more alert and notice the darkness in my room and the rest of the suite through my open door. "You're having a freak out aren't you Egor?"

"No, no, no!" He bustles past me and starts pulling clothes out of my closet, strewing them over my bed.

"Egor, go back to bed buddy. Come on, I'll help you."

He resists at first, tearing his arm out of my hands fiercely.

"Don't grab me! Don't grab me again or I'll kill you!" he growls.

I take a giant step back. I've never heard Egor talk like this before. I guess it's a remnant of the Victor in him.

"No one's grabbing you. It's three in the morning. Bedtime?" I try to say gently but I feel like I sound like I'm talking to a child.

He remains tensed up for another minute before sagging and letting me guide him back to his bedroom. I pull back the bedclothes for him to get in, but when I turn around to say goodnight to him, he is leaning, forehead against the wall.

"Egor?" I tentatively approach him. "Egor, I've got your bed ready for you."

His shoulders are heaving as he cries softly into the wallpaper.

I don't know what to do. Lalaney and Blight are much better at this…or at least they were before…everything.

"Hey…hey come on, what's the matter?"

"I don't know where I am…I want to go home," he sobs.

But you will! I want to scold him. He's the only one of us guaranteed to go home!

"Not much longer then you will be home," I tell him. "And right now you're in your room at the Training Center in the Capitol. Now come on, get into bed and get some sleep."

He peels himself off the wall and clamps his arms around my shoulders, gulping down a couple of sobs on my shoulder.

"Will you get me some sponsors? Will I be ok?"

Oh great, now he thinks I'm _his_ Mentor.

"Yes, you'll be ok. You've got lots of sponsors, now get some sleep."

He releases me and does as he's told. He's out for the count almost as soon as his head touches the pillow.

I hope that, after Blight and I are gone, someone looks out for him. Or if we get rescued from the arena, someone picks Egor up too.

I go back to my own room and get into my own bed.

Poor Egor, it must be awful to not be able to trust your own brain. I remember when I was sedated after Joey's death and I had that dream about him and my mother being alive still. I imagine what Egor's going through must be like that but he's awake and it's all the more confusing for him.

As if to prove a point, my brain betrays me when I drift off to sleep. I have a pretty graphic dream about being in an arena that looks like the site where Joshua buried the axe into Chalk's back. There's even a bloody stain on the grass in front of me. No one else is around and I feel rooted to the spot. Then, from nowhere, Finnick barrels through the trees to my left. He screams at me to run but I can't move. Katniss and Peeta follow him and Peeta too cries a warning to me. I reach out to them for help but they skip past me.

"Help," I call weakly.

Some strong hands grab my shoulders from behind and pull me backwards. My feet become unstuck and I fall back into someone's arms.

I let my head fall back against Finnick's chest, relieved to be able to move again. My relief is short-lived though as Finnick tightens his hands around my throat. I scratch at his hand and pull at his fingers until I hear a snap. While I wriggle out of his grip I notice that his chest is hard and smooth, armoured even.

It's not Finnick.

Iberio lies there clutching his hands, rolling around screaming. His handsome face is wrinkled up in agony. I back up slowly. He saved me from freezing to death in the snow but I turn and run, leaving him to suffer alone.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

Sunlight peeks into my room, just reaching the foot of the bed. It looks like a panel of liquid gold pooling on the sheets. I decide that I won't be able to go back to sleep and today is supposed to be for Interview Prep.

My clock says that its only seven am so I'm not surprised to see the breakfast table still empty. I pick through a piece of bread and think about my dream.

Chalk had said that Iberio was deployed to District 8…I should have asked Cecilia or Woof if they'd heard about him. I hope that he's ok. I wonder if he watched the Training Scores…did he think 8 was a crappy score too?

I shake my head. Stop being all girly Johanna.

There's still no movement from any of the other bedrooms by half eight so I grab a towel from my bathroom and decide to hunt out this swimming pool that Finnick told me about.

Sure enough, behind a door I hadn't even noticed before, are some stairs leading down to a dingy, cream-tiled pool area. The smell is overpowering and reminds me of the bleach I used to try to get rid of my uncle's blood from the floor of his shop. I slip off a shoe and dip in my big toe to judge the temperature. Not too cold, but not warm either. It seems to me that it's been a long time since anyone's used this facility and it's fallen by the wayside maintenance-wise.

I drop the rest of my clothes to the floor and carefully navigate the ladder into the water. When I jump down the last rung, the temperature takes my breath away.

"Right…swimming," I breathe to myself.

I perform a clumsy paddle in the shallow end of the pool, my nose pointed up and flaring at every splash. I must look _such_ a sight, but I'm doing it. I am travelling a short distance without putting my feet on the bottom. I mean how far might I have to swim in the arena? It can't be too far or all of the older, or less buoyant Tributes will be ruled out from the start.

Speaking of buoyancy, my manmade chest has to take the majority of the credit for my impressive form in the water. After a couple of widths of the shallow end, I roll onto my back and just float, staring up at the tiles on the ceiling.

I wonder if half the fun of this years arena will be because the audience will get to see long, drawn out deaths from drowning straight away.

Launch day is the day after tomorrow and I am still none the wiser about any kind of rebel plan. All I know is that Finnick has a new shiny bracelet to wear and I have to make friends with Katniss. Neither of these missions is going particularly well at the moment. I'll go back upstairs in a bit, see what the plan is for Interview Preparation and then find a time to take the bangle down to the 4th floor. Yeah, that's a good plan…just a few more minutes of floating.

Lying back like this reminds me of when Mother used to wash my hair in the bathtub. I'd spend the whole time screaming at her not to get any water on my face, it was quite an ordeal in our household. When he was a baby Joey used to cry at the very mention of the word 'bath time', somehow knowing what was about to occur.

I'm pretty convinced now that, even if there's a large body of water, I'll at least be able to float to safety on my enormous buoyancy aides. I rescue my towel from the damp tiles and rub most of the droplets off me before I put my clothes back on. I've wrung out my underwear and stuffed them into the pocket of my sweatshirt to stop them soaking my clothes from the inside.

The foyer of the Training Center is pretty busy now, full of people dashing around to get things ready for the Interviews tomorrow night, or place bets, or sign up as a sponsor.

Ahead of me, an elevator opens so I make a dash to reach it before it closes again, or at least that's the plan.

When I see Cinna coming out, I'm suddenly a lot more aware of the wet patches on my clothes.

"Nice to see you again Johanna," he says, taking a look around us to see if anyone's watching.

"Nice to see you too," I nod in reply.

His eyes skim over the bulge in my pocket.

"What you got there?"

"My underwear…"

The caution leaves his face at my answer and he grins.

"Are you hitting on me?"

"You wish…" I pat my pocket. "They got wet."

"That's…" He seems at a loss for words. "…not what I was expecting to hear."

I shrug. It _is_ the truth.

"You seen Finnick around?" Cinna goes back to his alert pose, leaning back on his heels, head up, scanning the people passing by us without a care.

"Not since training," I tell him. "Why are _you_ looking for him?"

"I'm not so much looking for him. I heard he's got a new token for this year and it's got a flame applique on it. I wanted to take a look at it, see if I could take a rubbing of the design, you know for my sketchbook. I'm sort of collecting fire paraphernalia now."

Gulp. Finnick doesn't have his 'new token' yet because I haven't given it to him.

"Oh…_I_ haven't seen this new token. He didn't have it at training." I widen my eyes at Cinna and shake my head.

"Is that right?" Cinna looks slightly amused, which is a relief. "Well I'm sure he's just trying to keep it safe, I heard it means a lot to him. Something to remind him of home I imagine, something to help him get back there."

Something to help Finnick get home again. So they intend on keeping Finnick alive, what about me?!

"Goodness, no wonder he's keeping it under wraps then. I wish my token was that impressive…" I try not to sound as bitter as I feel.

"Oh don't be silly Johanna, it's only superstition isn't it? Surely you don't believe in superstitions? No, no, you're much more about getting things done aren't you?"

I am? I am. So I have to _do _something to get out of the arena alive, courtesy of the rebellion. I wish someone would just _tell me_.

"I guess so…" Just tell me what to do Cinna!

"You know, it's just a shame that the Training Center's going to be so quiet next year. With twenty-three of you guys all gone." Cinna bites his lip and looks down. It's alarming what a good actor he is. "Just a shame, you know with Victors like you against Victors like Beetee and Wiress. It's not even a contest is it?"

"Not really…" Why has he picked Beetee and Wiress? Of all the Victors…I mean yeah, they're pretty old, and Wiress definitely has a screw loose, but they've not completely fallen apart like the Morphlings from 6 or the vomming alcoholic from 10.

"But Katniss has taken a shine to them," he continues.

Ah, I see.

"You know what she's like, she almost threw her life away to get Peeta's medicine last year, she's determined to be allies with Beetee and Wiress. What about you? Did you make any ally requests?"

Aww crap. I knew that I had to buddy up to Katniss, but apparently to do that I have to make sure Beetee and Wiress survive.

I tell Cinna to mind his own business, in true Johanna Mason fashion, and then take my wet underwear, and new information back to my room.

I don't stay for long. I shove the bangle into my damp pocket and head straight back out again.

"Where are you going?" Melanita calls. I jump out of my skin. I didn't see her sat on the couch nursing an enormous teacup. "It's Interview Prep today."

I shove my hands in my pockets in an attempt to disguise the circular contents.

"Smile, wave, don't say anything uncouth, done." I staple a cheesy smile across my face. "All prepped, thank you for your time!" I turn back around and turn the door handle.

"Where are you going?" she asks again.

"What's it to you?" I snap, keeping my hand on the door.

"I'm your escort. I should know where you're going, where you've been."

"Got it, you're my _escort_, not my mom. Therefore, I don't have to tell you anything!"

Melanita sets down her cup slowly and gets to her feet.

"Well then, since I'm your escort, how about I escort you to wherever it is you're going."

"How about you f—" I start, but there's a terrible, gutteral groan from the raised dining area.

Blight is doubled over, clutching his chest with one hand and steadying himself on the back of a chair with the other.

"What's the matter?" I step forward but he holds out his hand.

"Nothing, it's nothing…just my…"he moans again. Melanita goes to him, frowning. She awkwardly pats his back.

"Is it your heart?" she asks.

As she bends down to see where on his body he's clutching, Blight catches my eye. He jerks his head, just slightly, towards the door.

He's giving me a distraction for me to make my dash.

I do it. The door is open and I'm in the elevator in less than thirty seconds.

I ride the elevator back down to the foyer before going back up to the 4th floor, just in case Melanita has a way of tracking the journey. I really don't want her following me.

It turns out that the Capitol has gotten really suspicious of me, and I'm starting to suspect that perhaps Melanita Hamm isn't the innocent, naïve government employee that I first thought.


	86. Make Him Pay

**Chapter Eighty-Six- Make Him Pay**

"Well, well, well, look who we have here!" Finnick exclaims as he opens the door to the suite on the 4th floor. "Mags, cover up the strategy board, we've got a spy!"

Mags grins a gummy smile and waves at me before turning back around to continue whatever conversation she was having with Sandy.

"Shut up," I smack his arm and push past him. "I've got a present for you."

Finnick waves his arms around in the air at me.

I frown.

He touches both of his ears with his index fingers, then waves his arms around again.

Oh, he thinks we're being listened to. That's quite likely. I point to his bedroom and he shakes his head, pointing to his ears again. Even in there.

I guess with everything that's been going on, Beetee hasn't been on top of developing more ways to disrupt the wavelengths like he was last year.

"What's my present then?" Finnick plays along.

There's a stack of envelopes on the dresser next to the dining table so I fill the silence as I move towards them.

"You're so impatient! I've hardly seen you since we've been here, where's my 'hi how've you been?'?"

"Hi, how've you been? You know me, always excited about something pretty…is it pretty?"

I reach the dresser and slip the bangle into one of the envelopes.

"Here, it got delivered to the 7th Floor by accident. Postmark says District 4."

I hope it's just audio bugs in here, not cameras. Just in case, I fold the envelope over so that curious eyes can't see that it's completely blank.

Finnick makes a big show of ripping the unsealed envelope open from the bottom and tipping out the bangle.

"Who's it from?" I ask innocently.

Sandy and Mags are now watching us carefully.

"It's Annie's…" he says confidently, but looks at me questioningly.

"She's sent it just in time then if she wants it to be your token, the last deadline for tokens to be submitted for inspection is tomorrow morning." I nod.

"A token?" His eyes meet mine and it's only then that I realise what this means for him. There's a carefully restrained pain in his eyes.

Four years ago the two Tributes from District 4 had identical tokens. They both had shells from their homes. Red taught me the District 4 death rites and I had to perform them for both Tributes. The shell is pressed against the body's lips and then placed on the forehead between the eyebrows.

If Finnick has to take the bangle into the arena then it means he won't be able to take the shell.

I close my eyes. One part of me doesn't want to do it, but the other part of me (the part that controls my left hand) reaches out and I mouth,

'Give it to me'.

When I open my eyes, Finnick is fumbling around inside his shirt. He pulls a shell on a piece of string out and puts it in my hand, folding my fist back over it. He drops a soft kiss to my lips and whispers,

"Thank you."

I put the shell into my pocket. Gaia should be coming around at some point today to fit me for my Interview outfit, so I'll give her the shell to take down for inspection. I never thought I'd say it, but Gaia is the only person I can trust with the job.

"So what's this about a strategy then?" I sigh, again just filling the silence.

"What's the strategy Mags?" Finnick calls over to her.

"Head for cover and wait for Finnick," she quotes, but she doesn't look happy with the plan.

"And what is Finnick doing while you're waiting for him?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Gathering supplies," he tells me.

"Hitting the Cornucopia then," I translate. "Braver than me! Can I hide with you Mags, and Odair can you bring me an axe and some supplies? This does sound like a plan!"

Mags laughs.

"Not a bad plan." Finnick offers up. "Mags you want to stick with Mason?"

Mags holds out her hand, palm facing us, and waves away his idea.

"No, no! No treehouses!" she groans.

Finnick and I burst out laughing, and even Sandy cracks a smile.

"You like to keep your feet on the ground, don't you Mags?" Sandy pats her on the shoulder.

"I won't take it personally then," I wink at her. "Your speech is great by the way, I can hardly hear that slur of an accent you guys usually have."

This time Finnick smacks _my _arm and Sandy throws a coaster at me.

"We've been practicing for the interview," Mags says carefully. "So everyone can understand me. But I…" and then I lose whatever it is she says in a garbled hurry.

I look around at Finnick and Sandy, eyebrows raised.

"Nope, didn't get that one."

Finnick puts his arm around Mags's shoulders and chuckles.

"She wasn't saying anything, she was teasing you." He kisses the top of her head affectionately.

I can't imagine how many thousands of pieces he will break into if something happens to her.

"We need to get on actually," Sandy announces. "So…" Leave basically.

"Yeah…I err…I have to go anyway." I wave to Mags and head to the door.

"Let me show you out." Finnick follows close behind me.

He beats me to the button to call the elevator but as he presses it he hooks his other arm around my middle and holds me close against his body.

"What's it for?" he whispers urgently.

"Just wear it and find Katniss, that's all I know."

"Have you heard from Lalaney? I heard she's…"

"Avox. They planted her in the suite for us all to see after the Tribute Parade. Haven't seen her since."

"We've got to do this for her…"

"I know."

The elevator arrives and it's time for me to face the music with Melanita back on my own floor. Before the doors close on me, Finnick leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

"You're a beauty Mason," and the doors close. I even blush. What does it matter what token I take with me? It was just a stupid pinecone.

When the doors open again I am face to face with a really grumpy-looking escort. Her face is almost the same colour as her hair and she has her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Uh oh…"

"Yes! Uh oh!" she bleats. "Where have you been?! Gaia has been here waiting for you!"

"Makes a change from me waiting for her." I breeze past Melanita and flop down on the couch.

Gaia is stood at the drinks cabinet, an empty decanter in one hand and a full glass in the other.

"Busy day?" she asks as Melanita slams the suite door closed behind her.

"Could say that. What fancy dress costume have you brought for me today?"

We go to my room and Melanita stands in the doorway, not quite a part of the scene, but surveying it, like a bird of prey.

Gaia opens up her golden bag and pulls out a little black dress. It is strapless and bare of any embellishments. The skirt has a single petticoat under it to balance out my hips with my chest. It's simple; short but simple.

"I…like it," I say, turning slowly in the mirror. "I actually like it!"

"Oh good!" Gaia claps her hands together and then holds up one baby pink painted fingernail. "Just one more thing…"

She fishes something bright red out of the bag and pins it in ruffled folds to the base of my spine. It makes my butt look huge and…frilly, and then spills down the back of my legs to the floor, pooling like blood at my feet.

"Now I've got some spare chiffon, I was in two minds about whether to do a sash or just leave it at the bustle. What do you think?" Gaia looks at me in the mirror.

"I liked it when it was normal…"

"Yes, yes but I've spent a long time on the bustle so it's happening, just tell me whether you want the sash or not."

I twist to the side and tilt my head. I put my back to the mirror and then strain to see it from that angle instead.

"Give me the sash," I sigh. "Without it, it looks like my butt is bleeding and dripping down my legs."

Melanita and Gaia then both tilt their heads to look…and mutually pull a disgusted face.

The red strip is attached to the bustle, twisted around my torso and attached over the shoulder to the back. My nice, simple, black dress is gone. It's now just another Capitol showpiece.

Blight appears, with Egor, in his tuxedo. He has a red tie that matches my butt at the top, then fades down to a yellow at the bottom. He also has a sunshine-shaped appliqué on his jacket pocket that shimmers with reflected light.

"What's that about?" I squint at it.

"It's just a reminder of Blight's victory isn't it?" Gaia smiles her pouty smile and pats the design proudly. "You know I used my sketch for your Victor's Interview suit and just tied it in with Johanna's colours."

Wow, Gaia was the District 7 stylist even when Blight won! I can't imagine what either of them would have looked like all those years ago.

"You know I've never heard how you won," I say to Blight.

He ignores me and fidgets in his clothes, tugging the cuffs and straightening the lapels over and over.

"Right, it fits, I'm getting out of it now," he announces, turning on his heels.

"Wait, wait! We need to talk about Interview techniques!" Melanita calls after him and makes him sit down next to me on my bed, like two naughty children about to get a telling off.

"How are you each going to approach the interview?"

Blight and I look at each other.

"I don't really know," I reply. "Clumsily in high heels?"

"Yeah and I thought I might shuffle towards it, dragging my feet," Blight adds with a grin.

Melanita's hands go onto her hips, her lips pursed.

"I am not laughing."

"Do you ever dear?" Gaia says quietly to herself, but not quite quietly enough.

I snort and Blight hides a chuckle.

Our escort's cheeks start to flush an angry red.

"If this is how you're going to deal with all this then you deserve everything you get in that arena!" she barks and stalks out of my room.

"Now we're in trouble." Blight catches my eye and we burst into peals of laughter.

"Oh children, please," Gaia looks over at us disdainfully. "I'm not too bothered about what you say out there but please don't ruin those clothes. Strip now, both of you, before you wet yourselves!"

Blight returns to his room, wiping his eyes, and Egor follows him, completely oblivious to everything else around him.

Gaia unpins the bustle and sash, and folds them back into the bag, with the dress, for alterations.

"Oh yes." She stands upright suddenly, a thought occurring. "Have you got your token? I'll post it in to be inspected on my way out tonight, then bring it back tomorrow afternoon."

She spots the pinecone on my bedside table, where it usually is, and starts towards it.

"Wait, no! Not that!" I go to the drawer of my dressing table that I managed to slip the shell into while I was getting changed. "This."

I drop it into her hands and she pinches it between her thumb and forefinger.

"What's this then?"

"It's a shell." I roll my eyes.

"Yes I'm aware of that. I mean why is it your token?"

I frown. "Is that something they ask you when you hand it in?"

"No, I just want to know why a girl from the lumber district, who screamed at me for forgetting her pinecone last time, has a seashell as her token this time."

"It's a need-to-know thing." I unfold my arms and pull my old clothes back on.

"Suit yourself dear. See you tomorrow."

She swings the bag over her shoulder and swans off, stopping at the door to drop the shell into a pocket and give me a bewildering wink.

I think about that wink all day. What does it mean? Did it take her that short time to work out why I had a shell? Does she know more than she's letting on?

Melanita sulks for the rest of the day. She doesn't speak to any of us, but watches us carefully, unnervingly.

My Prep Team wakes me up at the usual time on Interview Day.

"Oh you're terribly puffy Johanna! Did you not sleep? Oh you poor thing!" Oberon, unwisely exclaims.

'V' and the Teary One almost recoil back from him as I breathe in deeply to bellow my predictably explicit morning greeting to them.

"I will not be having any soulful moments of regret with you so if any of you even consider getting weepy then I will throw you out…literally, I'm looking at _you_ Princess." I stare down the Teary One as they push me into the chair at my dresser and drive a band across my forehead to push my hair out of the way.

"I heard District 8 are wearing multi-coloured capes tonight," Oberon says, testing the waters for idle gossip. "Hand-dyed multi-coloured capes."

I roll my eyes but let it continue.

"Oh my gosh could you imagine how long that would take!" Teary One exclaims.

'V' is on her knees, lathering my legs with the oil that they're going to eventually rip off me.

They spend most of the morning scrubbing, and moisturising, and cleansing. We break for lunch then they start putting powders, and creams, and paints all over my face and body.

When Gaia arrives, she heads to Blight first to get him ready while 'V' combs mascara through my eyelashes and Oberon brushes an oily substance through my eyebrows to make them 'less bushy'.

Gaia comes to release the Prep Team about an hour before the Interview.

Oberon silently cups my face, without actually touching me, and shakes his head before he leaves. The Teary One just wells up and clamps a hand over her mouth as she runs out.

"My brother's put money on you Johanna, don't let us down," 'V' winks. "Don't worry about them, they're pathetic." She gives me a quick wave and I decide I've probably missed out on a (borderline) friendship there. I wonder if I'll ever see the trio again.

Gaia fusses and preens over the red chiffon, then fusses and preens over me.

"Go slow in your shoes, there's no need to rush! Try to sweep the train around you when you sit down. Oh and sit up straight or the bustle's going to get squashed."

She's full of instructions for me right up until we're meeting Melanita, Egor and Blight at the elevator.

Most of the Tributes are all ready there, chatting as if they haven't noticed all the busy people running around trying to set up for a TV show around them.

Mags is wearing a lovely silken slip of a dress. It's sky blue with long gaping sleeves.

"You look lovely," I tell her and she nods in reply.

Finnick comes over, looking dashing as ever with his bronze hair combed back. In his shadow are Cashmere and Gloss.

"We've had an idea," he says.

"_We_?" I look between him and Cashmere.

She parts her rosey pink lips, revealing a perfectly white smile.

"Yes, _we've_ had an idea," she sings, hooking her arm around Finnick's.

To my amusement though, Finnick fends her off.

"We're going to 'beef up the grief' so to speak," he explains. "Really, really overdo the 'kicked puppy' routine."

"The 'kicked puppy' routine?" asks Blight.

"Yeah, 'Oh isn't it so sad that we have to go back into the arena after we've come to love the Capitol so much' and all that." Cashmere gives Blight the once-over as she explains, her eyes full of calculating agenda. She's a predator sizing up her prey.

Mags isn't listening. She's staring through the gap between mine and Blight's shoulders. Someone else has arrived.

"Oh my—" Cashmere starts. "What _does_ she look like?"

Katniss and Peeta have arrived. Or should I say 'The Bride and Groom'. Peeta is wearing a fancier version of the kind of suit most of the other men are wearing, but Katniss…

The whole room has fallen silent; everyone stares.

Finally, I see a little humility in the girl. She pats down the white silk wedding dress and swallows nervously. Every last inch of the dress is covered in pearls; they're even wrapped around her neck. She must have been fiddling with them though because they're slightly off centre. I think even _she's_ embarrassed to be dressed like that. This can't be Cinna's work.

"She's gonna blow us all completely out of the water looking like that!" Cashmere hisses.

Word goes around that it's time to get into our places for our sad procession onto the stage, where we will wait, watching all the other Interviews, before our turn.

Katniss continues to stand, frozen, as if she hasn't heard.

"I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing," Finnick's voice says from behind me.

Katniss blinks back into reality.

"He didn't have any choice. President Snow made him," she replies tartly, quick to defend Cinna. Well at least she's as loyal to him as he is to her. Good form Katniss.

Finnick shrugs and tugs Mags into their spot in the line.

Cashmere flounces past the District 12 pair, Gloss in hand, spitting, "Well, you look ridiculous!"

The others float past them and react in different ways. Some are scowling, some are offering a sympathetic smile. Blight grabs my wrist and pulls me forward so he can shake Peeta's hand, it's the first time they've met. I look at Katniss, not sure what to say. She looks so despondent in the wedding dress that she's never going to wear, on the eve of a battle to the death, in which she has to face her fiancé and all of us, who have our own tragic stories, who feel our own betrayal.

Katniss has spotted me; I have to say something.

"Make him pay for it, okay?" I say, straightening her wonky necklace.

She nods and we exchange tight smiles before it's time to fill in the gap between District 6 and 8.

'Make him pay for it Katniss,' I think as we all lead off on our death march towards the screaming crowd.

Make him pay, like we're all going to. They're going to be sorry they double-crossed us.


	87. The Girl Knocked Up

**A/N- I completely wussed out of this chapter and stole a poem for Finnick to read rather than write one myself. It's a beautiful love poem called Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda. Also Katniss and Peeta's words belong to Suzanne Collins, as does the gist of what most of the other characters say. **

**Chapter Eighty-Seven- The Girl Knocked Up**

Cashmere kicks us off with a little sniffle as she reaches the interview chair.

Caesar, his suit, hair and makeup a pale lavender this year, leans forward to place his hand over hers.

She reaches into the cleavage of her dress to pull out a dainty, lace handkerchief to dab her eyes with. She tells Caesar that she hasn't stopped crying every day because the Capitol people will miss us Victors when we're gone. Gloss follows suit.

Enobaria and Caesar banter about her teeth. She bequeaths them to Caesar should, 'by some grave misfortune', she not make it out of the arena.

Brutus is 'pumped' for the start of the Game. Apparently he's been visiting the Training Center gym every day.

I lean forwards and catch Finnick's eye.

'We have a gym too?' I mouth.

He smiles and turns away to avoid laughing.

While we were lining up to come in, Finnick and Mags must have filled in Beetee and Wiress because when he sits down with Caeser, Beetee adjusts his glasses.

"I'm just not sure…you know…if all this is legal Caesar," he gulps into the microphone.

"Why do you say that Beetee?"

"Well…as Victors…we were promised a life of immunity. I mean Finnick was 14 when he won, so he was exempt from four years of reapings…I'm not sure if this rule change has been properly examined by…you know experts of late. Why should we have been exempt from all those years of eligible reaping if we were only to be reaped this year?"

Mags gets up in her lovely silky dress and slides into her seat to much respectful applause. One boy in the audience is holding up a card that reads, in thick black letters,

'MAGS BE MY FIERCE NANA!'

She smiles sadly at him and waves.

Caesar is very kind with her, repeating any words that get a little garbled, and mainly talking about her success with all the District 4 Victors that have won with her as their Mentor.

"And next, of course, one of Mags's Victors! He's ten years older than the last time we had this little chat, lets see how _Finnick Odair_ fares back in my chair!" Caesar has to strain his voice over the offensive roar that seizes the studio audience.

Finnick strides over, combing his fingers back through his bronze hair as he sits down opposite our host.

"Finnick," Caesar grins. "_Finnick!" _He grips his knee tightly, good-humouredly. "You were…how big? This big…last time we met in front of a camera like this!"

"I had a slight growth spurt." Finnick grins, winking down the camera. A couple of women in the front row sigh happily.

"Well you've aged really well over the past ten years my friend." Caesar touches Finnick's leg…again…

"Thank you! I wish I could say the same Caesar but…you haven't aged a day!"

"I should hope _not_! I paid a lot of money to make sure I never age again!"

The audience are almost rolling around on the floor with laughter at the banter between the two.

"Now Finnick," another leg touch, "we don't have much time so I was wondering if you, like your other colleagues, have anything that you'd like to say to our audience? Or even to Panem, everyone's watching Finnick, what would you like to say?"

"Actually, I have prepared a little something…if you wouldn't mind Caesar?" Finnick reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a tiny square of folded lined paper.

"Of course, go ahead," Caesar nods him on, sits back in his chair and presses his index fingers to his lavender lips.

Finnick unfolds the paper.

"This is a little something I wrote for someone more than a little special, someone I met and fell for here in the Capitol, my one true love." He clears his throat and gazes straight into the lens of the nearest camera.

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."

Last year I asked him, _"Do you love her?"_

"_Yes." _

"_Since when?" _

"_I'm not sure…it sort of crept up on me."_

And now I see what he meant. His little composition, his poem, is about Annie and I finally see how utterly helplessly in love my strong and brave friend is.

Women in the audience are clasping their hands to their chests, some are wiping free flowing tears away from their painted faces and others are ruminating excitedly over who the poem might be for.

I follow every one of Finnick's steps back to his seat without blinking. Sometimes it's like he's a hundred different people, but until a few moments ago I always thought I had the real one. I've seen him without clothes plenty of times, every one has, but this is the first time I've ever seen him completely naked. This is the real Finnick, the one Annie sees…but no one else knows.

The swooning women in the audience see the eligible bachelor, the charming killer, the flirty boy reading a poem that could be about any one of the number of women he goes home with. They hold up signs saying,

'MRS FINNICK ODAIR' and 'TRAWL MY OCEAN FINNICK!'.

"Johanna Mason everybody!" Caesar's voice cries.

Aw crap, how long was I staring at Finnick?! Two Districts worth of Interviews long apparently.

The length I have to walk seems to only get longer as I slowly navigate my way in Gaia's killer heels. People in the crowd wave signs at me, but I dread to think what they might say.

Caesar stands and offers his hand to help me to my seat.

"Johanna, you are looking fierce as ever!" Caesar claps his hands together and then leans towards me, putting a hand in front of his mouth as though he is exchanging a secret with me. "Do you think Gaia will be available to give me a makeover? I'm sure there are sharp cheekbones just like yours under all this…" he pats his cheeks.

"Well after this week I'm sure she'll be as free as a bird," I retort quickly. Oops. Pull it back Jo-Jo, pull it back. "I mean, I'm really going to miss her and everyone here in the Capitol."

A muted 'aww' ripples through the audience.

"And we're all going to miss you Johanna." My hands get encased in our esteemed host's manicured digits. "But what can we do? Our time has come to part…"

"Yes," I sigh. "What can we do? Surely whoever wrote the rule for the Quarter Quell seventy-five years ago, never guessed that us Victors would develop such a love for the Capitol. They couldn't have known that it would happen because no one would be so cruel as to try to sever this bond. I mean why would they let us fall completely in love with you all and then steal us away?" I let my brow pucker as this question lingers.

Caesar looks out to the studio audience and briefly touches his ear, it's such slight movement that I almost miss it.

"Indeed, a cruel fate as any who have loved and lost. As it is Miss Mason, we have loved you and now we must lose you back to your seat, our time is over. I'm sure everyone will agree with me though that for all your maudlin talk, you haven't yet convinced us that you won't be the one sat here at the end of it all. You've fooled us once before Miss Mason!" He wags a chastising finger at me and I know immediately what the little voice on the end of his earpiece has told him to do.

'_Get rid of her and remind Panem that she won before by tricking everybody into feeling sorry for her.' _

"One last time, Johanna Mason!"

I gather up my train and tread slowly back towards the others. I take my time and Blight has to pass me on the stage for his interview.

I watch him through a monitor in front of our chairs.

He's awful. He glares down every camera that dares to come to rest on him and he evades every question that might be considered a tiny bit personal. Caesar is such a professional though and ends up doing most of the talking for him.

He sidles back at the end of his time and slumps down into the seat next to me. I whack his arm with the back of my hand and roll my eyes.

Seeder and Chaff do their bit in our attempt to choke up the audience rather effectively, and by the time Katniss rises in her virgin white wedding dress there's an audible collective sob.

She puts on a rather convincing tremble when Caesar gives her the floor to speak and talks about how sad it is that no one will get to see her wedding now.

"But I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just ... the most beautiful thing?" She gets up and slowly twirls to show it off.

Someone in the front row gasps and points.

The rest of us Victors lean forward to see what's going on. Is that smoke coming out of Katniss's dress?! Flames simmer at the hem of the skirt.

Finnick looks back at me, eyes wide with confusion. I shake my head at him and turn to see Peeta's reaction. He looks just as surprised as everyone else. So does Katniss now that I see her face-on in the monitor.

Bits of her dress are flaking off and floating away like ashes, those pearls that I adjusted before we went onstage crash to the floor. The fire seizes hold of the entire dress and Katniss herself becomes obscured by the crackling flames. She can't be burning herself live on television can she?! I mean of all the ridiculous stunts…

Then, as quickly as they came, the flames extinguish themselves and Katniss is left in the exact same dress she was in before the spontaneous combustion. Except, it's not the same dress. It's black instead of white, and the shiny silky material has changed into feathers. Her long sleeves now resemble wings and her black veil drapes elegantly down her back.

"Feathers," Caesar stares. "You're like a bird."

"A mockingjay, I think," Katniss replies. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

And the symbol for the rebellion, don't forget that Katniss!

I try to spot Cinna with the other Stylists. What has he done this for?! He's pretty much just painted a target on his own chest. If Snow has any kind of inkling about what that mockingjay means to everyone then Cinna has just revealed that he's in on it too. Idiot!

Peeta is on his feet next. Is he going to twirl himself into anti-Snow graffiti as well, I wonder.

"Now Peeta," Caesar starts. "Did you have any idea that your fiancée was going to be treating us to that little show?"

"No idea at all, what a lovely surprise…and she mentioned that she's putting on a barbeque for us backstage after the show." Peeta winks.

"I just hope she doesn't burn the chicken!" Caesar exclaims and the audience, still in awe of Katniss's quick-change performance, chuckles a little.

I quickly get bored of their comedy back-and-forth and instead watch Katniss.

Parts of her dress are still smoking but she doesn't take her eyes away from Peeta. Everytime he sways in his seat, or leans forwards, or backwards, her eyes follow his movement. That is until we hear the words,

"We're already married."

Katniss's face plunges into what remains of her charred dress, embarrassed…or surprised?

Peeta describes a secret wedding that neither of their families knew about. Not a legal wedding, but 'real enough to them'. Katniss peeks out from her dress to offer the cameras a tiny smile.

Then Peeta drops another bombshell. No, not a bombshell, a full-blown stack of dynamite coated in nitro-glycerine dropped right next to an open flame.

"I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

"Surely even a brief time is better than no time?" Caesar frowns, confused. I wonder what the little voice in his ear is telling him now.

"Maybe I'd think that too Caesar," Peeta says sadly, looking down at his shoes, "if it weren't for the baby..."

Someone in the audience screams in anguish.

The Girl on Fire is The Girl Knocked Up.

Damn you Peeta Mellark! There was me worrying that Katniss's little wedding dress would upstage the rest of our pleas for humanity! The silly blonde boy has just pulled the pin on a grenade that has blown the rest of us out of the water. It could have collapsed the building for all the noise the crowd is making now.

The Capitol anthem starts up loudly as Peeta returns to Katniss's side. They embrace tightly.

Is she pregnant? No, she can't be. Can she? No!

Caesar is trying to shout over the wounded crowd, calling his goodnight speech across the moans and cries of 'Barbarism!'.

All of a sudden, Wiress and Beetee are on their feet. They hold hands as the anthem reaches it's crashing climax. The morphlings are up to. Mags joins hands with Beetee and Finnick seizes the fingers of Solange from District 5. The male morphling weaves his fingers between mine and I pull Blight to his feet to lengthen the chain. By the time the anthem finishes we are one long line.

One chain of twenty-four betrayed, abused teenagers. Some bigger than others, some older than others, but we all stand together as the television producers try to cut us off before anyone else sees what we can do when we all join hands.

The power gets cut and we are plunged into darkness.


	88. Today

**Chapter Eighty-Eight- Today**

Peacekeepers appear to direct us back into the Training Center. In the confusion I walk straight into Finnick's still form.

"Ow!" he moans.

"Ow? I'm a tiny little woman! Don't give me that, just move!" I give him a shove. "Look there's the 'happy couple' get into their elevator, I want to talk to them!"

Finnick grabs my wrist and uses his height to plot a route through the crowd.

"Too late," he murmurs as a Peacekeeper steps out in front of us, just as the doors to the elevator heading to the 12th floor close.

"Kick him!" I instruct my taller, muscular friend.

The Peacekeeper, voice muffled behind his closed visor, says,

"Do not kick me Mr Odair, I have a gun."

Finnick holds up his hands innocently.

"I'm not going to kick you." He pulls me out of the line for the elevators and hisses at me to stop trying to get him into trouble.

There's an oddly tense moment between us while we both try to discover something to say to each other on what might be our last meeting. Either of us could become Bloodbath fodder tomorrow morning. How could we find each other in the arena?

I open my mouth to ask if he has a plan to this end, but an errant arm catches me in the stomach and as I double over, winded, we are separated by the throng. He gets bustled into the next elevator and I am left behind.

Blight too has disappeared.

I am seized suddenly, and terrifyingly, with a sickening wave of panic. I brace my back against the cool marble wall beside the elevators and close my eyes. I try to gulp down the unsettling feeling. _Stop it! Stop it!_

"Are you alright?" It's Wiress. Her and Beetee are the last ones waiting to be taken up to their floor.

"Yes, I'm fine," I snap at her.

She pulls back a kind hand like I'd tried to bite it.

Beetee pushes his glasses back up his nose and shakes his head at her.

"Share our ride?" he asks quietly.

Trying to turn my panicked exhaustion into irritation at them, I huff and puff as I drag myself into the steel box.

"We'll be alright tomorrow won't we?" Beetee breaks the silence and takes Wiress's hand. She looks doubtful.

I snort in disbelief.

"I find _that_ hard to believe."

"I just…" Beetee's voice rises, and then as quickly as it came up, it lowers again, as if he momentarily lost check of himself. "I just wanted you to know that we'll be alright…and so will you."

The side of my mouth twitches into a sneer.

"Gee thanks."

The doors open at the 3rd Floor. Wiress quickly exits but Beetee stands in front of the doors to keep them from closing.

"What I'm saying Johanna…is we know what we're doing, so you don't have to worry about us." He looks over his glasses at me purposefully.

"I never do, now _move_!" I give him a smart shove so that the doors can close again.

Once I'm in motion again I think about Beetee's message.

'_We know what we're doing'_ What does _that_ mean? What are they doing? Do they have a special mission in the arena too? I know that Finnick's suppose to be buddying up with District 12, and I'm supposed to be getting them to Katniss…

Oh.

Beetee was telling me not to worry about them. They're going to try to make it on their own. They won't, obviously, but he was trying to tell me to save myself…

Melanita greets me with the news that Egor's taken to his bed, screaming that he won't go back into the arena. Blight is in with him but I can hear the old man shrieking and crying for a long dead mother.

I hover by the door. Should I go in? What could I do? What would I do? I just had a mini-meltdown myself.

I can feel Melanita's judging eyes on me when I shake my head and abandon my two old Mentors.

I can't go to sleep yet. I pace my room, mind racing. I wish I knew the plan. I wish I knew anything about what was going to happen. Oh yes, can I swim? The water, I know that, but how am I supposed to find Katniss once I've got Beetee, Wiress and probably Blight hugging my legs like toddlers? Maybe it'll be a small arena. Can they even swim? A small arena, with a body of water of some kind.

I grab a towel and head for the pool. It can't hurt to doggy paddle a few more laps before kick off tomorrow. It might even slow my brain down.

Everything is deathly silent in the lobby, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of not half an hour ago. In fact, the only time I get any evidence of the presence of other human beings is when I near the humid atmosphere of the swimming pool. I can hear someone else splashing through the water.

A bronze head and golden body cut through the water at such a speed it puts my pathetic paddling to shame.

I could call out and stop him but something halts me. I stand there at the door, just watching. This is the first time I've seen him like this, doing one of the things he loves most. I've never seen him swim before, or sail, and it's spectacular.

When he gets back down to the shallow end he stands up and brushes his hands over his hair. Water droplets run down his thick neck and along his broad shoulders.

"Are you going to be here all night or can someone else get in too?" I call out.

He turns his head sharply and pool water shoots off his hair like rain.

"I didn't know you were there." He rubs his face. "Enjoying the view?"

I shake my head, perhaps a little too vehemently.

"I thought I was going to have to jump in and rescue you, you looked like you were in trouble there, splashing around."

He laughs an enormously hearty laugh and beckons me in with his index and middle fingers.

I drop my clothes to the floor, like I did before, and climb down the ladder in my underwear.

"No armbands?" Finnick raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up," I tell him as I splash around, keeping my face well above the waterline.

"And you're not going to get very far with that stroke," he chuckles.

"Alright Odair! After this we'll go fell a tree against the lean, I'll bring the axe, you bring a wedge yeah?"

"I understood the word 'tree'."

"Precisely, now unless you have something useful to tell me I'd thank you to let me get on with my exercise." I tilt my head up so my nose doesn't get any water up it and paddle along the width of the pool.

"Look come here." He strides through the water towards me. "Stand up and give me your arms."

I begrudgingly do as I'm told. He stands behind me and holds my forearms.

"You'll go a lot quicker if you bring your arms out of the water."

He rotates my arms backwards, alternating which one is in front of me at one time.

"Keep your hands like you're digging a hole. Fingers together. Ok? Great, now lie on your front with your face in the water—"

My eyes widen. "What?! No! I'm not putting my face in the water."

"It's not as scary as it sounds. Just turn your face out of the water to the right every time your right arm goes into the air, breathe that way." He holds out his strong arms in front of him. "I'll hold you at first while you co-ordinate."

I eye him suspiciously.

"If you dunk me, even as a joke, I will wear your testicles like earrings."

"Noted. Now come on, we haven't got all night." We share a look. He must know that if I can't master this skill, I might not have 24 hours left to live.

I lean forward in the water and he puts one arm under my chest and the other under my knees.

"Ok, now just do what I said, bring one arm back and over."

"I don't want to put my face in the water," I say quietly.

"I'm here. Nothing's going to happen to you," he replies softly and my stomach flutters. I wish that was true for outside of this pool.

On my first go, a whoosh of water goes right up my nose and I jerk upwards, coughing until it sprays out of my mouth.

"I don't think I've ever been so attracted to you," Finnick laughs as I gasp for air.

"Testicles. Earrings!" I croak.

He coaxes me back down to the water and we try again.

We try again and again and again. Finnick introduces kicking and steps away from me. He walks along next to me, ready to hook me up if I struggle. After half an hour of practice in the shallow end, he persuades me to venture a little deeper. I dig deep into the water with my hands and kick furiously with my legs until my chest is heaving with exertion. I lift my head up and try to put my feet down. My head immediately ducks under the water again and I panic. My arms and legs thrash and my face briefly bobs above the water.

"Help!" I cry and Finnick is instantly at my side reaching for me. I grab hold of him, not caring whether I'm hurting him, or which part of his body I'm grabbing, and climb up him as far as I can.

"Calm down!" he orders. "I've got you, stop scrabbling." He wraps my legs around his waist and I hug his neck tightly.

"I couldn't touch the bottom," I moan. My teeth are chattering and I can feel my whole body shaking. I've never been so scared in my entire life. Every dangerous situation I've been in, I've been able to help myself out of it. I've never experienced that all-encompassing panic for my own survival.

"You're ok, you're ok," Finnick coos.

I can feel his legs moving and his arms circling.

"How are you staying up?" I whisper.

"By relaxing," he replies. "You really were doing great until you realised how deep it was. You want me to take you to the edge?"

I take a deep breath. There's only a few hours until I'm taken to an arena where I may need to be able to swim to survive.

I shake my head.

With one hand, he unhooks my legs.

"Circle them like your jogging with your knees high," he tells me.

I nod and watch what he's doing with his arms before slowly trying to copy.

The water laps over my mouth and my eyes widen in fear.

"Relax!" Finnick commands firmly.

I hold my breath and close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Nothing happens, I stay bobbing upright. I squeeze my eyes open and see Finnick smiling.

"A plus Miss Mason. Now about that 'felling against a lean' thing?"

I let out a tight, nervous laugh.

"I don't think we have time."

He holds out his hands to me, "There's never enough time is there? Come here, let me take you down to shallower water. You need to save some energy. As Caesar said, 'busy couple of days ahead'."

It seems so easy watching him slicing through the water, towing me behind him.

"Stop here, I want to swim the rest of the way." I decide.

"Are you sure?" He stands up but the water reaches up to his chin, still too deep for me to stand. He gathers me into his arms again.

"Yeah, just let me get my bearings a minute." I perch there, clinging onto him, trying to summon up the strength to let go and put my face in the water again.

And then what? A voice inside my head pipes up. You'll get out of the water and go to bed. Next time you see him will be in the arena.

Maybe it's just because my emotions are heightened after the near-drowning but I can't seem to let go of him. I look at his chiselled cheekbones and his pushed back wet hair and for the first time I don't think about how much he doesn't look like Red.

"You ok?" he asks gently.

"Yup, yes. Just psyching myself up."

"Don't think about it too much. Just do it."

Just do it. Just do it.

I can't, I can't bring myself to just let go of him and swim away, not knowing whether the next time I see him will be shining in the sky as one of the 'Fallen'.

"Finnick…" I say, at the same time he starts,

"Johanna…"

I motion for him to speak first, I still haven't worked out what exactly I'm going to say.

He lets out a lingering breath, before he whispers,

"I really didn't know how I was going to say goodbye to you Johanna."

"It's not part of the plan so maybe you won't have to," I offer, even though I don't really know what the plan is.

"But if something did happen and I hadn't said goodbye, I'd never be able to forgive myself. You've been more than a friend to me over the past few years. You've kept me going. You've made me laugh when I've felt like dying. You've seen more of me than anyone else. I can't imagine being here without you."

"Woah, Odair, we're getting pretty serious here…" I smile awkwardly.

What do I say?!

"I always thought you were the strong one, taking me by the hand in the way you did. You've walked with me through so much and you know what…" I chuck under his chin. "…we're going to walk out of this as well. Two people won last year, why not this year too? Why not a whole bunch of us?"

Finnick smiles sadly.

"Hey, I said it before but I don't think you believed me, I love you Mason." He presses a light kiss to my lips. "How do I find you inside?"

I swallow hard.

"You don't. Do what you need to do. I'll find you, I've got things I need to do too. I'll find you." As long as you stick with Katniss, I should say.

"How?"

"I'll find the nearest beach, and you'll probably be right there, sunning yourself with a beer in your hand."

He chuckles.

"I'll listen for the frustrated screams of a woman not getting her own way then. The earth will quake and I'll think, 'There's Mason stamping her foot at someone'."

I flick the end of his nose and we laugh gently together.

"Want me to take you in then Miss?" Finnick sighs.

I nod.

"Go on then."

He carries me right up to the ladder and then gives me a boost up it.

"Stop trying to feel me up!" I reprimand him.

"Stop waving your see-through panties in my face then!" he exclaims back.

I kick out backwards and he dramatically throws himself backwards into the water. I stick my tongue out at him and wrap myself in my towel. I won't bother getting dressed. What can they do to punish me for dripping through the foyer?

"Hey Mason," Finnick calls before I get to the door.

"What now?!"

"Get away from the Cornucopia as fast as you can, the Careers are baying for blood. Get as far as you can the first couple of days before you turn back to find us but…"

"What?"

"Make sure you find us." The look in his green eyes says that it's not just a friendly need for my company, there's another reason that I have to find the group. Obviously I _have_ to get Beetee and Wiress there.

"See you tomorrow Finnick."

"See you tomorrow Johanna."

I leave wet footprints on the shiny foyer floor and let droplets drip down the buttons of the elevator.

There's silence in my suite, so I slip into bed and cling to my pinecone until sleep overcomes me.

When morning comes, my eyes reluctantly open.

It's today.

Today's the day.

It's today.

Time to get up.

For today.

Damn I wish it wasn't today.

I slowly get dressed.

I pad over to the dining table. Blight is stirring a pink drink with the end of a pen. There are white particles floating in it. He's staring at the table.

I sit opposite him and drink a glass of orange juice, followed by a glass of water. We don't talk.

Egor appears. His eyes are red and his stature betrays his exhaustion. He slumps into the seat next to Blight and puts his hand on his friend's shoulder.

There's a jovial knock on the suite door but we all ignore it. Eventually Melanita flits out of her room, berating us for not going to the door. She lets Gaia in.

Gaia has a forced smile on her face.

"Anyone have any alcohol?" she sings, heading straight to the drinks cabinet. She pulls a couple of pills out of her purse and washes them down with a glass of amber liquor.

"Ready for this?" she gulps, leaning against the back of the sofa.

We all stare at her.

"I've come to take one of you…to the…er… one of you has to come please."

Behind me a chair scrapes across floor and, when I turn, I see Blight has risen to his feet.

"You don't have to…" I croak. "I'll—"

But he shakes his head.

"Don't you want to finish your…err…" Gaia indicates his pink drink.

"It's a hydration solution and no I don't," Blight says.

I bang my fist on the table; the cutlery jingles.

"Drink it," I instruct him firmly. I'm not having him passing out this afternoon because he hasn't had enough water for twenty-odd years.

He downs it in two mouthfuls, wipes his mouth and follows Gaia out to the elevator.

I go after them.

"Blight!" I call urgently. "We stick together ok?"

He nods tightly and the doors close between us.

Egor and I wait for Melanita to remove her hair rollers and paint her face, before it's my turn.

Egor starts to cry in the elevator.

"Oh hush old man," I say quietly, straightening the collar of his shirt. "Crying won't solve anything," I quote my old Grandma Mason. I never liked her. Crying won me the 71st Annual Hunger Games actually Grandma!

"Why didn't my brother volunteer for me?" he sobs, out of it again.

The doors open at the rooftop. A hovercraft waits ominously for me.

I link arms with Egor and help him out of the elevator. He sees the silver hovercraft and sinks to his knees.

"It's not for you, you old fool!" Melanita snaps at him.

"Hey!" I bark. "It's not his fault!"

"Doesn't mean it's not annoying." She rolls her eyes. "Good luck and all that. We'll be watching." Her extending, feathery eyelashes flutter eagerly. "Me, Egor…I wonder if your Peacekeeper friend will be watching…"

For all I'd been expecting from today, it wasn't those words. I clench my fists to my side.

"I don't have any friends, you know that. I don't have any family thanks to you people!"

"Yeah we knew that…that's why I'm here to 'look after' him." She jerks her head towards my broken Mentor. "It would be a shame if he had an accident wouldn't it? And your Peacekeeper friend…just think what would happen to him if the whole country went into rebellion. Wouldn't want that would we? Wouldn't want a fullscale war zone for our handsome little friend to be caught in the middle of would we?"

My hot blood runs icy cold. They've got Iberio. He won't know it until it's too late, but they've got him good.

"Johanna Mason!" A firm voice calls from the hovercraft. I'm holding up their tight schedule.

"Off you go," coos Melanita, and she wiggles her fingers at me.

I board the hovercraft and as we rise higher in the air, I watch my Escort walk past my stricken Mentor, already on his knees, and push him over.

His head connects sharply with the concrete.

I don't see her look back at him.

I don't see him get up.


	89. A Dance

**Chapter Eighty-Nine- A Dance**

I get my tracker shot in my arm and sit back, trying not to think about Egor's soundless slump. He's not one of the popular Mentors; he won't be missed when they do their parade down to the Hub in front of the press.

I push my fingers to my eyes and try to squeeze away the image of him lying on that rooftop. Got to get my head in the game! Don't let it distract you!

Eventually the windows become obscured so I can't see anything of the arena below me and we lower into the catacombs beneath.

Gaia is there to collect me.

"Blight wanted to be alone," she tells me as we walk, surrounded by Peacekeepers, towards my Launch Room. "I wasn't allowed to go to your room without you and they didn't like me walking around down here so I've been waiting for you. These guys really don't like to talk."

"Oh they don't have personalities Gaia, didn't you know that?" I tell her. Well, one of them has…NO Johanna! No more thinking about him.

We turn a few corners and traverse a few more corridors before we're stopped and a door is opened for us.

"Well this is nice," Gaia mutters, fluffing a few of the pink cushions on the green sofa. Her standard gold bag is waiting on the coffee table in front of it.

The Peacekeepers leave us alone but I have every confidence that they are remaining outside the door.

"Egor's…Egor's not safe…he may be dead," I gulp to my Stylist without looking at her. "Melanita…"

"She's a wrong-un, I know that," Gaia replies. "Here, drink some water."

She hands me a freshly poured glass of water in a tinted purple flute. There're little slices of lemon floating in it. This time tomorrow I could be gasping for liquid of any kind but now I have chilled water with lemon.

I sip at my drink and poke through the clothes in the bag. A stretchy blue all-in-one costume is folded on the top.

"What is this?" I feel something padded in the bottom and pull it out. It is long and six inches wide. "A scarf?"

"Don't be silly, it's a belt!" Gaia takes my glass from me to allow me to strip down.

The jumpsuit is about half an inch thick and doesn't feel like it's going to offer much protection from the elements.

Gaia does up the zip at the front and then wraps the hideous belt around me.

"What do you think? Warm arena?" I ask, searching her face for answers.

"I don't know. Jumpsuits are very 'in' at the moment, it could just be for style…although I agree you won't last very long if you see snow or bitter weather. It may be treated for protection from the sun…"

"Ok, what do you think about _this_?" I pluck at the belt. "It seems pretty superfluous."

"Gosh Johanna what a long word!" Gaia gapes and I roll my eyes. "I wouldn't underestimate the Gamemakers' sense of style."

"Gosh Gaia what a fountain of nothing you are this morning!"

"I'm getting déjà vu," Gaia smiles.

"What does that mean?" I frown, pausing from pulling on my rubber-soled shoes.

"Never mind. Anyway, before I forget." She produces something small from her pocket. It's Finnick's shell, my token. "Didn't want you shouting at me again."

"Thanks." I put it around my neck and tuck it under the jumpsuit. "This feels so different from last time."

"It does doesn't it?" Gaia agrees. "Usually it's always the same, every year I come down here with more children for the slaughter. They're all the same when that alert goes to get into the tube. This time it's going to be different."

"How do you know? How do you know I'm not going to break down and cry?" I fiddle with the sleeve of my jumpsuit, pulling it down and then pushing it up again.

"Oh because that's not part of your plan," she replies very matter-of-factly.

I snort.

"What plan?" I have no _real_ plan. Get Beetee and Wiress and find the others. That's the only plan I have.

"I hear things, I've been in this game a long time, I know a lot of people. If it _is_ a hot or humid arena then you might want to keep Blight around, he might be able to use his previous experience."

"Of course I'm going to keep Blight around! I'm not just going to abandon him! Maybe that's what your friendships are like in the Capitol…"

Gaia gives me a wry smile.

"It might appear that way, and you all certainly made your point last night during the Interviews. But that's just those on high, us lower folk can be as loyal as anything. Your little stunt last night proved that, all that crying and groaning…" She sits down on the green sofa and pats the cushion next to her so I join her. "What do you think the ladies of the Capitol will do if Finnick Odair gets killed? What will the men do if Cashmere dies?"

I roll my eyes. "Thanks Gaia."

"What will the downtrodden women in the Capitol do when their champion Johanna Mason is murdered? The young lovers? This is the worst thing Snow could have done. He's going to alienate the whole nation. If you die, and I hope you don't, you have to know that it's going to assist in turning everyone against their beloved Hunger Games."

"That's the most touching thing you've ever said to me…"

"Well, we've never been close you and I have we? But you have to know Johanna, that I—"

"One minute to Launch," comes the robotic voice.

"I believe in you." She covers my hand with hers.

"Thank you." I look over at the Tribute Tube standing ominously empty. "Better get going."

"Do you want one more drink of water? A couple of chips?" She pours out more lemony liquid and passes me a large bowl of fried, thin potatoes.

"Thirty seconds."

I throw down the water and nibble on a couple of the chips.

"I'll talk you up, get you and Blight some more sponsors!" She calls after me as I rise to my feet and approach the transparent tube. "I'll tell everyone that you told me you've been hiding a secret skill that you'll need sponsor money for."

I place one foot on the pad. Once my full body weight is on the pad, the tube will seal shut around me.

"Gaia," I breathe.

"Mmm?"

"If I don't make it out…you did your best and I thank you. Find Lalaney if you can…if she's still alive, and get out of the Capitol."

"Ten seconds."

Gaia nods seriously, then winks.

"Knock 'em dead girlie."

The tube seals around me and the countdown reaches 'One'.

The pad doesn't lift.

"What's going on?" I tap the thick plastic around me. There's been some hesitation in launching us up into the arena.

Gaia shrugs.

"Maybe one of the other Tributes got stuck in the door so they can't release the rest of you yet?" her voice comes muffled.

Come on! This is a pretty important day…trust someone else to delay it for all of us.

"I bet it was Blight." I pull a face.

"Or one of the wobbly District 6 Tributes," she adds.

Finally the metal plate beneath my feet shudders and I'm jerked upwards. Gaia waves as I pass into the vertical concrete tunnel. In the moments of darkness I list my priorities for the minute before the gong.

Number 1: Scope the landscape.

Number 2: Locate Beetee, Wiress and Blight.

Number 3: Locate Finnick and Katniss.

Number 4: If possible, check out the Cornucopia stores.

Last time I had already decided firmly not to go for the supplies in the mouth of the golden horn, this time I guess I could play it by ear. There will undoubtedly be an axe or two there just for me. Nice to have but not worth risking everything for, I can always come back for them after a couple of days. I did all right without my axe last time anyway.

When the tunnel ends, the immediate bright light blinds me. I press my palms into my eye sockets and groan. It's not only bright, but hot, humid even. Not my natural environment. It seems too bright though, it's not just sunlight, and there's a funny noise too.

I squeeze my watering eyes open and look around me. Water.

"_She asked me if I knew if you could swim. I said I didn't know. Can you?"_

All part of the plan. I'll have to employ some of Finnick's swimming tips to get off my pedestal. The Cornucopia is in front of me on a circular sandy island, but I'm behind it, I can't see what's lurking in its mouth. A few yards to my right is a thin spoke of land coming out from the sandy island and reaching to a more substantial body of woodland that seems to encircle and make up the rest of the arena.

Cecilia from District 8 is the same amount of distance to my left, and on the other side of the spoke of land is the vomiting male Tribute from District 5. Where are Beetee and Wiress? I can't see them, they must be around the other side of the Cornucopia. I can't see Peeta or Katniss either. Blight is the furthest Tribute that can be seen to my right and Finnick is two in to my left.

I catch his eye. He mimes the digging motion with his arms that he taught me last night.

The digital clock on the top of the Cornucopia now reads '10'. Ten seconds left.

I make some glasses with my fingers across my eyes and then hold my hands out to Finnick. He looks around, then snaps his arms out to his left, beyond where I can see. Ok, at least I have a general idea of where Beetee is. I can't think how to mime 'Wiress' so I just leave it.

'5, 4, 3, 2, 1'

Oh here we go again!

Finnick gives me a final salute and then makes a graceful dive into the water as soon as the gong sounds.

The male from 5 on the other side of me also greets the water eagerly. Cecilia and I look at each other. She looks completely lost. I bend my knees and crouch into a squat, dangling a foot into the water…it's pretty deep. I can't just step down into it like I usually enter the pool. I can't dive like Finnick either.

The man in question has already reached the sandy island. He shakes the water off his head and makes his way to the supplies, out of my sight. District 5 is also a couple of strokes away from the island. Cecilia and I have to move.

"Just slide in!" I decide and call to her.

"I can't swim!" she shrieks back to me.

I grip on to the side of my pedestal and sink my body up to my hips in the water. It's quite warm, just like the swimming pool. Now, just drop elegantly in Johanna, nice and steady. I let go and fall with a big splash. Some of the water goes up my nose and I gag instantly. It's salt water. I flail about as I cough and stress about sinking, so at first I don't notice the most important piece of information. I am not sinking. Something is keeping me afloat and it is not my chest. My hips and butt are bobbing up in the water behind me. The belt! The belt is a buoyancy aid! That's why it's so padded! I paddle around a little just to test it.

"The belt!" I yell to Cecilia. "The belt will keep you afloat!"

She points to her ears and shakes her head. She can't hear me.

"The belt!" I try to point to my waist. "The belt! Oh you know what, I tried." It's heartless but I've already wasted enough time here. I turn my back on her and start 'digging' and kicking my way towards the spit of land to my right.

Blight is no longer on his plate so he must be in the water already. Good.

Ahead of me I start to hear familiar sounds. Sounds from my nightmares; the clash of weapons, grunts of pain and cries for mercy. The bloodbath has begun and I'm still here. Not a great start to the plan.

I reach my spoke and hook myself out of the water. Blight is just about doing the same on his nearest spoke. I run down to the island and put my back to the golden horn. I creep around, taking in the status of all the other Tributes. I can't see any of the Career Tributes either in the water or still on their plates. They must be the sources of all the noise.

A hand clamps down on my shoulder. Instinctively, I grab the forearm with both of my hands and twirl myself under it so that I am face to face with my attacker and better positioned to punch him in the stomach.

Blight doubles over with a groan.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I exclaim quietly. "But what were you thinking creeping up on me right now?!"

"I won't do it again," he wheezes. "What's the plan?"

"Get Beetee and Wiress, and clear the heck out of here. Did you get a look at the Cornucopia? Is there anything worth having?"

"Nothing but weapons, a lot of them. We should move quickly. Beetee was in the water when I climbed out and Wiress was swirling her fingers in the water from her pedestal."

"Great."

Behind us there's the sound of something cutting through the air, then piercing scream and a loud splash. Cecilia.

"Time to move!" I throw caution to the wind and bolt towards the mouth of the Cornucopia.

I see Beetee immediately. He is heading towards us. Wiress on the other hand is swimming away. She's bobbing around in the water, heading for the trees rather than any spokes or the island.

"Beetee!" Blight and I bellow together.

He ignores us and continues towards the pile of weapons. What can he need a weapon for?!

"Go get Wiress and wait for us just past the trees!" I call to Blight and direct him to her position. He dutifully separates down the nearest spoke, calling for Wiress instead.

"Beetee we gotta go!" I try again.

He's scrambling around looking for something in particular.

I leap over a body. District 5. He has a large hole in his chest; too big for a sword, too deep for it to have been plunged in by hand. It was thrown, and it was a spear or a trident. Finnick's kill.

Something metal falls to the floor.

"Beetee come _on!_" I reach him and pull on the back of his jumpsuit.

Behind a pile of boxes displaying various shaped knives, a head emerges. It's the red-head from District 10. She pushes over the boxes and lunges for me, completely ignoring Beetee, I guess I'm a bigger threat right now. She doesn't think about her attack very carefully though, jumping on me like that when we're surrounded by weapons. As soon as she'd leapt I'd grabbed the nearest pointy object, a spear.

She comes down right on top of it and it plunges through her lower neck. Her eyes bulge as she hangs there in front of me. I drop the spear and she falls with it, blood frothing at her mouth as she blubs and then lies still.

My first kill. I wonder who's high-fiving in the Capitol because their bet came in…

"Beetee, lets go _now!_" I turn around and find myself staring into the green eyes and handsome face of Gloss. He has a dagger in his hand and it is raised, ready to stab me while I'd been watching 10 die.

"Stabbing me in the back? Bad form Gloss!" I exclaim and repeat my stomach punch manoeuvre. He doesn't double over like Blight though; he just sort of absorbs the shock.

"It was good enough for him," Gloss nods over to Beetee, who is curled up on the ground, the sand behind him dribbling a reddish-purple colour.

"Oh…" I back up. "Right…" My right heel connects with something on the floor. Oh no, it's the dead girls hand. "Sorry 10," I mutter as I heave the spear out of her body, nearly severing her head with it. _That's _going to come back and haunt my sleeping hours for sure.

Gloss's dagger clashes with the shaft of the spear and I attempt to drive him backwards. He presses back so I step to the side, like a dance. I just need to grab Beetee and go. Leave Gloss for someone else. I notice he's limping a little as we circle. He has a bleeding wound in his leg. Someone else _has_ got to him.

"Have you been dancing with someone else?" I feign insult. "I'm jealous!"

Over his shoulder I see movement. Not rash, panicky movement, a slow predatory advance. Two figures. One of them only has one arm. Chaff and Seeder. Just got to keep Gloss busy.

"Tell me Gloss," I parry a lunge. "Who took a bite out of you before I could?"

Chaff leaves Seeder's side to attend to Beetee so I turn Gloss around again so he has his back to proceedings.

"Where's your boyfriend Johanna?" Gloss sneers. "Has he gone and left you so soon in the game? I saw you two waving at each other before the gong sounded."

"Hmm is that so?" I hadn't noticed Gloss between us.

"Uh huh, not much gets past me and my sister, even when we're on opposite sides of the Cornucopia." He spins around just as Seeder reaches him and drives his dagger straight into her abdomen, just as Cashmere appears from the side of the Cornucopia. Seeder sinks to the floor and I notice she also has a knife sticking out of her back. Attacked from both sides by the brother and sister duo. _That's_ why Gloss allowed me to turn him around.

Thankfully Chaff has got Beetee on his feet and therefore has diverted the siblings' attention. He claims a curved sword and beckons them on, giving Beetee the opportunity to slip by towards me. He clutches his chest with one hand, while the other has something small clenched in it. I point him towards where Blight and Wiress disappeared to and he hobbles down one of the spokes.

Cashmere and Gloss are closing in on Chaff. I should help him.

"He'll be fine, just go," a voice croaks at my feet. Seeder is still alive. The sand around her is wet and stained but she keeps a hand clamped over her wound. "Your job is more important than ours. We just had to make sure you got out, go you silly girl."

"But…"

"Go! If he makes it I'll tell him which way you went…if I can hold on that long…" she grimaces.

I hang around, torn between two roles…until I hear another voice calling for Cashmere and Gloss. The other Careers are on their way.

"Thank you," I say softly to Seeder and then run.

I soon catch up with Beetee so I take his arm and drag him along behind me. It slows me down some, but equally speeds him up too.

Blight flags us down as soon as we cross the boundary into the wooded area. Beetee drops to the floor exhausted, still holding his chest.

"Are you ok?" Blight asks him.

"Knifed," I explain, finally having time to catch my breath. "We need to move, the others will be coming hunting soon."

"I can't…" Beetee groans.

"You can." I grab his hand and pull him roughly to his feet. "You can or you die."

"Be careful!" Wiress cries. "Be careful! Watch where you're going! You can't see, you can't see!"

Blight and I share a look.

"I can see fine…" I say, turning my head as well, just in case.

"Me too."

"Ok, Nuts is crazy, guess that's not a big revelation. Let's move."

I wrap Beetee's arm around my shoulders and brace him as we progress uphill. It's hot and sweaty and hardwork, but that's the plan. Get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible for a couple of days and then start heading back to find Finnick and the others.

Wiress starts to sing…badly.

This has the potential to be a long couple of days.


	90. You Can't See!

**Chapter Ninety- You Can't See!**

It feels like we walk for a long time up that hill. After about a mile the older members of our group start to flag. The older members of the group are, of course, everyone except me. I think about reminding Blight about those nights I asked him to come walking with me in District 7, to build up fitness. I think about reminding him of his drunken replies.

"We need to stop…" Blight pants. "Beetee's injured. I'm coated in sweat, and we haven't seen any sign of a water supply. We need to stop."

"We can't, not yet! Look we're going up hill! There must be a peak! And water flows down hill, the only water we saw at the bottom of this side was saltwater, so there might be freshwater on the other side!" I'm like a woman possessed. I hound them into walking another half mile before Beetee collapses.

"We need to find water…and a way to stem my bleeding," he coughs.

Wiress twirls in a circle pointing up at the sky, which I now notice is an odd pink. While staring upwards with her, I notice that one tree, not far ahead, is taller than the rest of them.

"Right, stay here. Find some leaves or something for Beetee's wound. I'm going to shimmy up that tree there and see what I can see."

Beetee frowns and pushes his glasses back up his nose.

"Is that a sensible idea? The branches don't look particularly sturdy…"

I tilt my head to one side and glare at him.

"Hey do I tell you how to…I don't know, get stabbed in the back? That's about all you've been good for so far!"

Blight hold his hands up between us.

"Stop it, we're all irritable in the heat. Lets just try to get along. Johanna, that seems like a good idea. Why don't you take yourself away from this situation and see if there are any other water sources around here?"

Blight's hit the nail on the head. I need to walk away from the group, even for just a couple of minutes. The only other time I've been in a desperate fight for survival, I only had myself to look out for. If I was hungry I ate, if I decided there wasn't time, I didn't. I'm not used to having to change my plans because someone _else_ can't hack it.

I take the tree at a run, kicking off the trunk to reach the lowest branch, which I swing myself up onto easily. Those long shifts with that little saw have really paid off. I scale the tree like a ladder. A couple of branches buckle a little under my feet but I'm only on them for a second.

I could climb forever. I'd definitely be safe up here…well pending horrific forest fire of course…

When I get clear of the rest of the canopy, I find a nice thick branch, hold on to one above it and balance, toe to heel along to get a view of the rest of the arena.

It's a lot smaller than I first thought. It must have been because we were heading uphill, but the Cornucopia is nearer than I imagined, which does nothing for my foreboding sense of paranoia. Little figures still run around the golden horn urgently. I wish I could see who they are.

Straight across from me I can see more jungle, but there's one tree which stands far, far taller than any of the others. In fact, I turn on my perch, there are a few trees that stand tall, all an equal distance apart. There's even one behind me. Is this a Gamemaker foil to stop us identifying where we are, or how far we have travelled? They obviously have assumed that these tall trees will be used as location identifiers, so I am extra motivated to move away from our nearest. I don't see any breaks in the trees that could mean water, except for that around our old launch pads.

Hopeless.

I slide back down to the ground and find my little group slumped around a nearby tree trunk.

"No sign of water, and we can't stay here. There are some pretty huge trees that I think might be being used as distance markers and I don't want us to be near any kind of marker. Also we're not as far away from the Cornucopia as we feel, so I want to move further up."

A ripple of exhausted groans circle the trunk.

"Get up, or I will leave you all here to die."

As they get to their feet, I notice Beetee tossing something over in his hands.

"What is that? What did you risk your life and mine for?"

He holds it up in the air between his finger and thumb.

"A coil of wire?" I gape. "That's all?!" I slap both my palms to my forehead and push on up the hill. Of course it was something stupid like that. I can't believe it.

After only twenty minutes or so, we change tack from heading to higher ground, to just putting a distance between us and the last place we were seen by the Careers. I check our position regularly to make sure we always keep the Cornucopia to our right. We keep going, stopping every so often for someone to moan about how hot it is, or how tired they are, or how thirsty they are, or how much blood they've lost. It's like travelling with children! I have to take another two timeouts before, around midafternoon, we hear the first cannon. Each boom represents one of us that is no more.

One. Seeder.

Two. My District 10 kill.

Three. Finnick's District 5.

Four. Cecilia?

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

I don't know who the last four are for, I'll have to wait for the death roll after sunset to see who they are. I hope with every ounce of energy that I can muster that I don't see anymore familiar faces. What if those last four faces are Finnick, Mags, Peeta and Katniss. What would we do?! Would the rebels still help us if the Mockingjay was dead?

We walk a little further after the cannons but have to stop pretty soon because Beetee and Blight are wheezing again. Wiress is actually doing pretty well given her age. She dances around me as I stand with my hands on my hips.

"We're going in a circle!" she sings, clapping her hands. "Ring-a-ring-a roses, we all fall down!"

"No one's falling down Wiress," I tell her. "Not on my time."

"What's the time Mr Wolf?" she replies, then her eyes widen as if something new occurs to her, but she goes back to singing the same song she's been singing since we left the Cornucopia…something about a clock striking one and a mouse getting pretty excited about it.

I end up giving up on the two men. We can't go any further; they're too tired. Well, we're all tired and we're all thirsty. Pretty thirsty. Ok I'm really thirsty too but if we keep moaning about it then we'll never stop thinking about it.

"There are plants here and we've seen a few lizards, there _must_ be something to drink here!" I exclaim to myself as I take a look around our newly created campsite.

"Since it's pretty humid, if we had a clear bag we could put it over a branch of leaves and collect the condensation," Beetee offers.

"That's great Volts, you got a bag on you? No? Then shut up!" I thunder. "You didn't even have the sense of mind to keep the knife that Gloss stuck in your back! All you've got is that dumbass wire."

"It helped him win his Game," Blight reminds me.

"Big whoop!" I glare back at him. "I won mine on my own with an axe and a treehouse," I hold out my empty hands to demonstrate my case. "I don't see anyone helping me recreate _those_ circumstances!"

"And I won mine using patience and a little planning, and it was a damn sight hotter than this in my day too," Blight's voice raises. "So why don't you _listen_ to someone who has a little more experience in this environment. We shouldn't have walked this far in this heat. We need to rest and recuperate. Water will present itself. They won't want to kill us all off so quickly. Think about your Game. Was there any obvious water source then? No! You waited and it appeared in the form of rain."

That is true. I'm loathed to admit it though. Instead I turn my back on him and stalk the trees looking for something to eat. I'm starting to feel weak from thirst and general exhaustion but I refuse to let anyone see it. I doubt any cameras are trained on us right now anyway, not when Finnick Odair is out there accompanying the Hunger Games' first pregnant Tribute, but I will not be letting anyone see me look weak.

I find a few nuts but am unsure if they are fit for consumption. I decide to take them back to camp anyway. Perhaps Beetee and Wiress paid more attention at the edible plants station during Training.

Beetee did. He nods when I present the nuts and takes one to peel and eat himself.

"Where's Wiress?" I frown.

The two men look to each other for an answer.

"You guys!" I jump back up again. "Seriously? I leave you for five minutes!" I'm reluctant to go running through the jungle shouting, but I can't think of any other way to find her.

"Wiress!" I hiss. "Where have you gone Nuts?! Wiress!"

I don't know why Katniss wants Nuts and Volts but I don't know if she'll be very happy if I only fulfil half the bargain.

"Johanna!" I hear Blight's voice bellowing.

I scrunch my face up. If any other Tribute is anywhere near us right now, they'll know exactly where I am.

"Johanna!"

"Shut up!" I growl as soon as I'm in earshot. "You _just_ said that I should take advice from someone with more experience, and then you go giving away our position! What is wrong with you?!" I give him a rough shove to his chest.

"We found Wiress."

She's back at the campsite, hands cupped together, holding hundreds of tiny berries. It puts my pitiful few nuts to shame.

They alleviate the thirst somewhat, but not even close to enough.

The sun starts to set as we're eating and we all simultaneously go off our food, as we know what's coming.

The moon comes out and the Capitol anthem starts to play.

Beetee offers his hand to Wiress and she clasps it desperately with both of hers. I find that Blight's and mine have also found each other.

The male from 5 is the first face.

I release a tight breath. Mags and Finnick are still alive.

The man from District 6.

Cecelia and Woof from 8. So Finnick will know that I am still around. Wiress moans at their appearances. Beetee makes a comment about Cecelia's 'poor children'.

The male and female from 9.

"I saw it happen," Wiress whispers. "I saw Mikael die."

The red-head from 10.

My face flushes the same shade as her hair. The same shade as her blood as it trickled out of her neck, down the spear and flecked onto my hand as I dropped her.

"Oh no, Sage," tuts Blight. "She wished me good luck last night."

Sage, another name to add to the cast list of my nightmares.

Then there's Seeder. Chaff must have gotten out alive. That's some comfort.

And that's the eight. Katniss and Peeta are fine too then.

Blight offers to take first watch when we decide to bed down. I tell him to wake me in a couple of hours to swap over. Beetee reminds us not to leave him out of any guard shifts.

"I just need a rest. I think after a couple of hours sleep I'll be just fine again. Wake me when you're feeling tired Johanna ok?"

I grit my teeth and squeeze out a forced smile.

"Ok Beetee." There's no way I'm putting our lives in his hands tonight. Not when Tributes are still hunting and Mutts may be cued for nighttime excitement. Not when he's already let Gloss stab him in the back just to get a stupid coil of wire.

Beetee manages to coax Wiress down into a restful state, it takes about an hour, and even when she does lie down she keeps humming that song about that damn mouse. The last thing she mutters before she finally falls asleep sounds like:

"The clock struck one, the mouse ran up," which is strange because I'm pretty sure in other incarnations of the song, the mouse ran down.

"She's pretty worked up about something," Blight says from the tree he's put his back to.

"Well duh, she just saw all the same dead faces in the sky the rest of us did!" I roll my eyes and curl up in a ball at the base of another tree.

It doesn't feel right sleeping on the ground. I feel vulnerable and unprotected here where anyone could stumble over me in the night. I lost the vote though and as much as I would love to just leave them to it and shimmy up the nearest tree, I can't abandon them. As soon as I hand them over to Katniss I can do whatever I like.

I fantasise about what I _could _do once I'm rid of Nuts and Volts until sleep takes over and I slip out of the arena for few hours.

An enormous crack overhead wakes me. I instinctively roll to one side, thinking it's a branch falling from one of the overhanging trees. It's not. Another crack lights up the sky above.

"Get up! Get up!" Blight calls. He's shaking Beetee. I can't believe he could sleep through this noise! "It's a storm! There'll be rain! What did I say!"

Lightning! That's the source of the sound. As if on cue, another bolt forks across the sky where we'd watched the death roll not too long ago.

There's not a single drop of rain coming through the canopy though.

"Maybe we're not quite under the raincloud?" I suggest. "We should move!"

Yet another white flame courses through the darkness. This time it strikes something. Something nearby.

"I don't think we should be here!" Beetee is finally awake and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "The electricity needs the fastest route to the ground so it could hit all these trees and also maybe us!"

Of course Volts knows all about lightning storms.

"Then lets go, maybe we can get somewhere less covered so we can gather some rainwater!"

Beetee stops to collect his wire but apart from that we are ready to move empty-handed.

I lead the way, walking in the same direction we'd been heading earlier in the day but with a little more urgency in our strides. The storm rages over our heads and I have to stop a few times just to make sure the others are still behind me. I can't hear anything! When the storm finally blows itself out, Blight catches my arm.

"Listen."

It's blissfully quiet.

"Why did the lightning just stop?" Beetee's voice pipes up. "Surely it should have just moved away?"

"I don't think any of us would be at all surprised if we discovered that it wasn't natural lightning," I flick him a withering look. "I mean look where we are, up until a few hours ago, the sky was pink!"

"_Listen!"_ Blight says again, this time exasperatedly.

There's a soft pitter patter. Like tiny footsteps. No not tiny footsteps. Rain. Water!

"Yes!" I cry and break into a run, the others close at my heels. My mouth waters as best it can as the sound gets louder. "Let's get higher! Maybe the tree line breaks further up!"

Then the rain hits me. I feel it on the top of my head and it drips deliciously down the back of my neck.

Water! Water! I lift my arms up and spin in it with my eyes closed. I could dance!

I open my mouth hungrily.

It takes a couple of second for the taste to register.

Someone screams.

"You can't see! You can't see! The clock struck one and you can't see!"

It tastes metallic, like… I open my eyes and look down at myself. I am covered in blood. Not my blood, I've not been run through by a waiting Tribute. I look up again. There's no dismembered corpse hanging above me. The rain is blood. Blood rain.

My companions are also saturated. Blight is spitting out the mouthful that he'd happily welcomed when he thought it was water. He retches behind a tree.

"Let's keep heading up," I shout and immediately the blood floods my mouth again.

The rain falls thicker as we push on and we have to hold hands in a chain to keep from losing each other. It stings my eyes and I have no clean…_anything_ to wipe it away with. I walk with one hand out in front of me, trying to avoid walking into trees. It doesn't really work too well.

"I can't see!" I echo Wiress's eerie chant. "I can't lead if I can't see!"

Blight pushes blindly past me.

"Just keep going up, it's the only way we can know which direction we're—"

His sentence is cut short by a loud, sharp buzz, a zap, and then something heavy knocks me over.

"Blight?!" I squint my painful eyes open and push away at whatever has thrown me to the ground. It's heavy but it rolls lifelessly off me.

"He couldn't see…" Wiress's voice comes softly through the rain.

A cannon booms.

"Blight?!" I scream.


	91. Orphaned Tributes

**A/N: Another disclaimer. **

**Now Johanna's words slip away from me even more. Suzanne Collins owns these characters and most of the dialogue from now on {sob}. Thanks again to those of you who continue to read and review, you're all the best of people **

**Chapter Ninety-One- Orphaned Tributes**

"Blight?!" I screech again, feeling around blindly. "Blight! Talk to me!"

"He's here," Beetee says sadly.

The rain turns off like a shower. I claw at my eyes to remove the drips of hot blood escaping my eyebrows. I can see, it's a little blurry, but I can see!

There's a dark red mass on the floor, in a lifeless shape, beside Beetee's feet.

"Johanna…I'm sorry," murmurs Beetee.

"No, no, don't say that!" I drop to my knees beside him, ignoring the splash of the blood puddle underneath me. "It's not him, he's alive. The cannon was for someone else. I know it. Blight! Blight!"

I roll him over. His right arm flops out into the bloody mud and his eyes stare up at the clear sky. Glassy eyes. Vacant eyes. Nothing there. Nothing behind them. No light. No sparkle. No dull irony, or tired sarcasm, or exasperation, or any of the other things I've come to expect from my old Mentor's eyes. He's gone. Nothing left.

I look around. Everything has been completely saturated by the rain, so there's nothing I can use to wipe the blood from his face. I try my best with my bare hands though. I also gently use my fingertips to close his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to him. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."

Just another to add to the list of people I couldn't save: Red, Father, Uncle Fern, Mother, Joey, Egor…Hemlock, Hetty, Alder, Camellia, my first Tributes Barclay and Daphne.

It's too many names. Too many lives wasted. Too many futures erased.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. My mouth still taste of blood. Time to be _tough_ Johanna. Cry for him later. Not now. We have to move away from him for him to be collected by a hovercraft. Before we do though, I have one question for the Brainbox.

"What did this?" I wheel around.

Beetee and Wiress are standing together staring into thin air.

"Hey!" I find a couple of nuts so I whip them at the two nutjobs. One hits Beetee in the back of the head, and the other _just_ whizzes past Wiress's left ear.

Wiress turns to face me, her eyes in a bit of a daze.

"What are you looking at?" I demand.

Beetee, tapping his lips in thought, returns to us.

"We need to head back to the beach," he tells us.

"Why?! What's happening? What were you staring at?" I don't like being told what to do, especially not right now.

"We can't go any further this way." He's tossing his coil over and over, excitedly, in his hands.

"Why not?! Will you answer me?!" I'm another unanswered question away from stamping my feet, except I can picture Blight's face…or what it would look like if he saw me doing it.

"The mouse ran down," Wiress chimes in. "Down." She nods.

"Why can't we carry on?" I shout over her insane babbling.

"Because the arena ends Johanna!" Beetee exclaims. "That's it! Right there!" He points to where I finally notice a break in the tree line. "There's a force field to keep us in, but that's the edge of the arena."

"And that's what ki—that's what Blight walked into."

"I think so, I assume so. Cardiac arrest I should think. Would have given him quite a shock before it flung him back. Dead as he hit the ground."

"Shut up," I say sharply. "I don't care how it happened."

I can almost hear people booing me. What a nasty-piece of work that Johanna Mason is, she doesn't care that her District Partner is dead. But it's not that. I just…I can't look at him anymore. He's gone and I don't want to know how. I don't want to know that when he knocked me over he was already gone.

"Why can't we keep going that way?" I indicate the direction we had been heading before we turned uphill. "Do you think there might be more blood rain that way?"

"I don't know what's that way, but I don't want to risk it."

"But you'll risk the beach, where we're out in the open for anyone to find us?"

"That's exactly why I want to head to the beach." He makes very purposeful eye contact with me.

I sigh.

"Fine, whatever."

"Let's just start heading away and then we can break for a rest until morning."

"Fine, _whatever_."

I take care to avoid looking again at Blight's body as we vacate the area. My chest feels tight and if I look at him, I may break into however many bits are left of my heart.

When we stop, almost half a mile away from where we left Blight, I ask Beetee why he thinks the rain just stopped.

"Was it because Blight…triggered it to turn off?"

He shakes his head.

"I think it was just time for it to stop."

"Tick tock, tick tock," Wiress agrees in her own way. "Time for us to stop." She puts her hand gently on Beetee's shoulder and he winces.

She looks concerned but he waves her away, telling her not to worry.

They've still got each other.

We all jump as another cannon fires. There goes someone else. Another Tribute without a partner…or another pair reunited in death. It's been less than an hour since Blight's cannon.

I keep guard. There's no way I could sleep now. The few seconds that I close my eyes I see Blight's bloody face, gazing up at me, and I taste blood. Urgh what I'd give for a glass of water right now.

I think I hear the sound of multiple pairs of running feet in the distance and I spend the following hour straining all of my senses for any indication that they might be coming this way. They don't. I wonder who, or what, it was.

I wonder what kind of night Finnick and Mags are having. Did the blood rain fall on them? Have they found water? At least if we relocate to the beach we're better positioned to look for them.

Before sunrise there is yet another cannon blast not too far away, just like the last. It's been a busy night in the arena. That's eleven dead, thirteen left.

When the sun creeps higher into the pink sky I rouse Beetee and Wiress. Neither of them are any the better for their rest. If anything, Wiress seems worse. She clutches at Beetee as soon as her eyes open.

"Tick tock!" she cries.

Beetee holds his chest has he sits up. The leaves that Blight and Wiress had stuffed into the back of his jumpsuit to pad his wound, had been washed away in the rain and it seems that lying on the ground for a few hours has worsened his condition. I help him attach his coil of wire to his floating belt with some vines so he doesn't have to carry it anymore.

"Let's go to the beach then," I say when we are all set to go.

We move _so_ slowly. Slower even than before. I've lost my motivation and Beetee can't handle the steep decline. Wiress falls more than five times because she's not paying attention to the ground beneath her feet. The heat increases as the hours pass and we still haven't had any water.

We stop for a little rest. I say it's because Beetee is struggling, but really it's so that I can go and throw up behind a bush. I'm not in such great shape either. Blight had been absolutely right when he said we shouldn't have pushed ourselves so hard on the first day. There's not a lot in me to throw up, just the remainder of the blood rain I'd accidentally swallowed, but my body seems determined to teach me a sharp lesson. I have to brace myself against a tree to collect myself before I return to the others.

When I do return, I hassle the District 3 pair to their feet, like I haven't just almost vomited myself inside out.

There's a loud rumble from across the other side of the arena. For a second I worry that it's my stomach making the awful sound, but it precedes the sound of crashing water, and then another cannon.

"What is going on?" I mutter. "Have they set traps for us all over the place?"

No one replies. Well Wiress does but with her usual,

"Tick tock Johanna! Tick tock!"

"Yes great, another fascinating conversation with you Wiress," I grumble.

Beetee slips and falls on top of me. We roll a little down the hill before I can grab a hold of a tree root to stop us.

"Sorry," he says weakly.

I curse excessively and push him off me.

"Give me your hand, this is ridiculous." He does as he's told and I loop it around my shoulder. "If you fall again and break your leg, I will put you down like a lame horse."

We finally hobble out of the jungle onto the beach. I don't like being out here. We could have any number of weapons trained on us without even realising. Anyone could be watching us, and right now my companions are not doing their best at making us look like a formidable alliance of warriors.

Wiress spins as soon as her feet hit the sand.

"Tick tock, tick tock!"

"Wiress, shut up!" I hiss at her.

Beetee is so weak by now that he can barely lift his own feet, which he demonstrates by tripping over flat ground.

"For crying out loud!" I cry and stamp my feet.

"Tick tock!"

"Shut up!" Wiress unwisely teeters into my range so I turn and give her a real shove. "Now be quiet and stay there!" I have to make sure Beetee is ok.

"Johanna!" a voice calls. Too far away, and too full of energy to be Beetee.

Hands on my hips I confront the caller. Things can't get any worse.

Whoever it is runs towards us. I can't see a weapon in their hands and they too have two companions that are standing back, not charging at us.

It's only when the light catches the runner's hair that I realise who it is.

"Finnick!" I yell back. My legs almost give out with relief. I stumble towards him.

When he reaches me, I hold my hands up like an abandoned child, too weak to do anything else anymore. He seizes me around the waist and lifts me into his arms.

"Thank goodness," he breathes into my ear as he holds me tightly. He smells just like saltwater, and sweat, and…comfort.

Over his shoulder, I can see his companions tentatively approaching. Peeta and Katniss.

I kick my legs a little to let him know that I want to be put down.

He looks around at Beetee and Wiress, and then says the two words I'd been dreading.

"Where's Blight?"

I close my eyes and take a breath.

"We headed as far as we could up hill away from the Cornucopia, like you said. Then last night, a lightning storm started while we were asleep, so we all got up hoping to find water, wandered around a bit when we heard it falling. We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn't see, you couldn't speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That's when Blight hit the force field."

"I'm sorry, Johanna," says Finnick, sadly.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't much, but he was from home," I reply not particularly wanting to go into it all in front of Peeta and Katniss. "And he left me alone with these two." I point to Beetee with my shoe, nudging him slightly. "He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—"

As if she knows everyone is paying attention to her, Wiress demonstrates her favourite quote for the newcomers.

"Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

"Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock." I roll my eyes and she comes towards me suddenly. I shove her to the ground again. She's an absolute liability. "Just stay down, will you?"

"Lay off her!" Katniss interjects. She's not said a word this whole time and _now_ she chooses to pipe up to defend a woman that she hasn't had to drag around for the past day.

"Lay off her?" I hiss. How dare she? She doesn't know what I've been through. Lay off her? Before I realise what I'm doing I've stepped up and slapped her around the face with all the strength I can muster. "Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—"

Finnick sweeps me up quickly, tossing me over his shoulder and changing direction to remove me from the altercation. I don't go without a fight. I wriggle and pound at his shoulder screaming for him to put me down.

"You think you're better than me! 'Ooh be careful of Nuts, you might hurt her' says the girl who fired an arrow straight into a boy's neck without even thinking!" I scream at Katniss. "You're a pathetic hypocrite who—"

Finnick dunks my head under the water repeatedly in an attempt to shut me up. Each time I emerge, I continue my tirade of insults until I'm too tired and my throat is dry. By this point Katniss and Peeta have busied themselves checking on Beetee.

"Feel better?" Finnick asks.

"No!" I punch his arm. "What did I say would happen to your testicles if you dunked my face in the water! And how long did it take before you stripped off all your clothes? Five minutes? You look gross by the way, did you catch a pox or something?"

Finnick laughs. He laughs long and hard, like he's only just remembered how to.

"I've missed you Mason," he chuckles and envelopes me in his arms once again.

I hang there while he holds me tightly.

"Where's Mags?" I ask quietly.

He puts me down. There's a smear of blood rain across his chest and left cheek, transference from the stains in my jumpsuit and hair.

"Lost," he replies flatly, and then sinks down into deeper water.

I guess we're a pair of orphaned Tributes now. Both of our old Mentors lost in this brutal 'game'.

Finnick ducks his head under momentarily, then comes up to the surface only enough for me to see the top of his head and eyes.

He doesn't want to talk about it so he's hidden his mouth where I can't coax something from it.

"You're a child," I roll my eyes.

He shakes his head, so I nod.

Then his eyes widen in surprise, in horror.

"What? What is it?!" I put my faith in my belt and step out into the deeper water. I float closer to him, a rush of panic coursing through my veins. I can't help him here, it's not my natural environment. "What is it?!"

He springs out of the water and spits a shower of salty water right in my face. I scrunch my face up in surprise.

"I hate you," I tell him before opening my eyes.

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

I have to bite the bullet and dunk my face under the water a few more times. The fountain he spat in my face dislodged some of the blood in my eyebrows and hairline and it starts running down into my eyes again. When I finally feel all clean again I look over to the beach.

Peeta is dabbing at Beetee's back with…some leaves or something, and Katniss is helping her beloved Wiress get scrubbed clean.

"How's it been with the 'love birds'?" I ask Finnick, who is now running his fingers through my hair, scratching the dried blood off my scalp. He's not as gentle as Cinna but I allow him to be the second person I let touch my hair.

"Not too bad. They're all right. Was pretty sure Katniss was going to kill me as soon as we got away from the Cornucopia but Peeta stepped in, and she seems to trust his judgement."

I think back to the short conversations I had with Peeta in the Training Room.

"Do you think he'll vouch for me?" I snort.

"He might…but since you just slapped her in the face, I don't think Katniss would listen to him, so you should probably apologise to her."

"Aww man!" I whine. "Are you done up there yet?"

"Almost, just one more dunk and then I think you're fine."

"Honestly you're picking at me like a grooming monkey."

"I don't want to talk about monkeys ever again…"


	92. The Right Thing

**Chapter Ninety-Two- The Right Thing**

After I am all scrubbed clean, Finnick and I wade back to the beach camp to check on the state of Beetee's wound.

Katniss and Peeta have dressed it with some sort of springy moss and tied it secure with some vines. He's laying naked in the shade at the edge of the jungle. Wiress is poking around in the sand, muttering to herself, but she is too squeaky clean.

Peeta shows me how they've been gathering water; a spile tapped into the jungle trees.

"Did you find that in the Cornucopia?" I ask.

He shakes his head and tells me about a sponsor gift. It's all right for some.

Finnick passes me a huge pile of shellfish and my stomach takes over from my brain. I can't form anymore words or think about anything, except the oppressive hunger that I hadn't noticed until that pile of jelly in shells was pushed under my nose. They're terribly salty but I wolf them down and glug deep on the water Peeta gives me.

Katniss lures Wiress over and tries to get her to eat, without much success. I think Wiress is only comfortable eating her own little berries.

"Why don't you like monkeys anymore then?" I mumble to Finnick through my gooey mouthful.

I notice him share a look with both Peeta and Katniss.

"Er…we were sleeping and a fog started up. We ran as fast as we could, it was burning our skin and affecting our muscles. It petered out when we got to the beach but then we realised we were being watched." His voice is flat as though he's picking his words carefully. "These monkey mutts attacked us, almost got Peeta but one of the morphlings threw herself in between them. Then they just disappeared again, just like the fog."

No mention of Mags. Was it the fog, or did the monkeys get her?

Katniss clears her throat.

"I think everyone should take the opportunity to rest while we can. I'll keep watch, I feel really rested."

"No, I'll stay up, I was the last to wake up," Peeta tells her.

"I should watch," Finnick says, "Katniss, you should rest in your condition. I don't think I could sleep anyway."

"No," I tell him. "But you need to rest, even if you don't sleep. Plus you look awful," I poke at his peeling chest. "Go and lie down."

Katniss folds her arms, stubbornly.

"Everyone go to sleep, I'm staying up because you all need to be on top form."

Gradually Peeta and Finnick retreat to their own little spots to lie down, while Wiress heads for the shade, near Beetee. I stay put on the beach.

Finnick taps me on the shoulder as he goes by.

"Coming to lie down?"

I shake my head.

It's just me and Katniss now.

When I can hear little snores coming from the snoozing group, I glance at Finnick before turning to Katniss.

"How'd you lose Mags?" She's probably the only one that will tell me. Peeta probably wouldn't, out of respect for Finnick, and Finnick won't out of grief.

Katniss on the other hand is pretty candid,

"In the fog" she tells me. "Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn't lift her. Finnick said he couldn't take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison."

She says it all so matter-of-factly as if she was explaining the plot of a TV show, not describing the death of an old lady. A wonderful old lady who's been everything to my friend.

"She was Finnick's mentor, you know," I tell her, without being able to hide the accusation in my voice.

"No, I didn't," she replies flatly.

I clench my fists and have to talk myself down from hitting her again. She doesn't know Finnick, or Mags, or what either of them has been through. She doesn't know about Finnick's mother, or Red, or Finnola. She doesn't know about Mags almost being his surrogate mother. Just like Blight was like my surrogate father.

"She was half his family," I think, and then realise I've said it out loud.

The water around the Cornucopia is lapping up in waves on our beach, just reaching the underwear pinned under some rocks.

"So what were you doing with Nuts and Volts?" Katniss asks me.

"I told you, I got them for you…"

I think about revealing all about her precious Cinna. Cinna told me how to get into your good graces! No, everyone will be listening to this, which would get him into even _more_ trouble, which he doesn't need after that wedding dress stunt. I'll blame it on Haymitch.

"Haymitch said if we were to be allies I had to bring them to you. That's what you told him, right?" I hope she doesn't know that my Mentor has been curled up in a sobbing ball most days we were in the Capitol, and therefore not able to accept alliance requests. Blight got Finnick's token from Haymitch, so she will know that Haymitch has been seeking out helpers for her.

"Thanks," she says." I appreciate it."

"I hope so." I've lost my Mentor to bring her these whack-jobs, she better turn out to be the best damn rebel leader anyone's ever seen, even if she is pregnant.

Wiress stirs behind Katniss and rises on all fours. She crawls over to us, muttering her catchphrase.

"Oh goody, she's back." I roll my eyes. "Okay, I'm going to sleep. You and Nuts can guard together." I push myself to my feet and sway over to where Finnick's bronzed legs are spread out like the bottom of a star on the sand, his arms folded up and his hands cupping the back of his head. I flop down next to him, burying my face in my arms to block out the ever-brightening sunshine.

"Katniss told you about Mags then?" I hear Finnick's voice, muffled and quiet. I poke my head out of my arms to glance at him. His eyes are still closed and his lips barely moving. I replace my head into my arms and reply to him,

"Yes."

"I _knew_ that's why you weren't coming to rest. Did you get everything you needed?"

"I told you about Blight," I hiss.

"So maybe it was down to me to tell you about Mags."

"But you weren't going to. I knew her too. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have saved her. Katniss should have carried her, it's her fault."

"It's not her fault. I had to make a choice, and I chose Peeta. I could have put him down to save her. I couldn't carry them both, and I chose Peeta. The worst part is that she knew. She knew I wouldn't save her. I let her down and she knew I would."

I hear his voice catch in his throat. I've thought before about how heartbroken he'd be if something happened to Mags, and now I'm seeing it. Except I can't see it, I can hear it. You couldn't tell from looking at him, but he's breaking into hundreds of pieces. He's like a tall, strong tree that crumbles in your hand as soon as you touch it because it's moulding away from the inside.

"You didn't let her down. She sacrificed her life because she knew you were doing the right thing. Everyone will see that. You're doing the right thing."

He lets out a strangled chuckle.

"The right thing? I don't think anything we do here can be construed as the right thing in any respects. That's why we have to get out."

This is getting into dangerous territory now.

"Go to sleep Odair," I say a little more clearly. "I'm here now, so you can blame me if something else goes wrong."

There's a shuffling sound and then I feel his skin brush against mine. He's reached out and now his forearm is pressed against my elbow. It's only a little physical contact, but it's comfort enough for us both. It's all the comfort we're allowed here.

I doze for an hour or so I guess. The sun starts to prickle at the top of my head when Katniss's voice cuts through the peace of lapping waves. I'd almost forgotten about the dangers of the area.

"Get up!" she's ordering us. A hand shakes my back and I instinctively move to bat it away.

"I didn't order a wake up call," I mutter, rolling onto my back.

She's moved on to Finnick, shaking him too.

"Get up, we have to move."

"Why?"

"What's going on?" We echo each other.

"The arena is a clock!" she exclaims, holding her hands out as if it's obvious. "That's why Wiress keeps saying 'Tick, tock'. Each hour triggers a new trap in each section of the jungle. That's why the lightning storm led right into the blood rain, if you'd stayed in the lightning section you'd have been fine. Then the fog seeps out an hour later, followed by the monkeys. Then the tidal wave over there at around 10 o'clock."

"Tidal wave?" I frown.

"Yeah, you missed that fun," Finnick says quietly.

"Great."

Katniss continues, "Right now the blood rain is falling over there." She points to where Beetee, Wiress and I emerged from the jungle.

"Ok, so what's the plan?" Peeta asks.

"We pack up and move."

I pull a face.

"What?" Katniss glares.

"We just got here," I argue pathetically. I know I'm just arguing for the sake of it, and so does Katniss. So I agree and help collect up what few supplies we have as a group.

Katniss rouses Wiress and she seems happy that we finally understand her cryptic message. Finnick gives her some bread and Peeta tries to lift Beetee.

"Wire," Beetee calls.

"She's right here," Peeta nods over to Wiress. "Wiress is fine. She's coming too."

Beetee shakes his head and struggles against Peeta's hold.

"Wire!" he says again.

"Oh I know what he wants." I scan the beach for his silly coil of wire. It's near the shallow water. I scoop it up and toss it in my hands like Beetee had been doing. Whatever he needs it for must be super important after the amount of crap we've been through for it.

"This worthless thing," I tell Peeta. "It's some kind of wire or something. That's how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don't know what kind of weapon it's supposed to be."

Play dumb, that'll be my defence. I don't know what Beetee needs his electrical coil for, whether he's planning a re-enactment of his Game or what, but if it's important now, then I don't want everyone else watching on their TVs to know it.

"I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrotte or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garrotting somebody?"

"He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap. It's the best weapon he could have." Peeta informs me.

"Seems like you'd have figured that out," Katniss pipes up again. I hadn't even realised she'd been listening. "Since you nicknamed him Volts and all."

Damn her!

"Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn't it? I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were…what, again? Getting Mags killed off?" Here we all are risking our lives and those of people we care about and she could be ruining it all with her stupid-ass blunt comments!

Her hand goes to the knife hung from her belt.

"Go ahead," I mock. "Try it. I don't care if you are knocked up, I'll rip your throat out!"

"Maybe we all had better be careful where we step." Finnick holds his hands up, stepping in between us again. He uncurls my fingers from the roll of coil and places it on Beetee's chest. "There's your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it."

Peeta is now able to gather Beetee up a lot easier.

"Where to?" he asks.

Finnick says that he thinks we should head for the Cornucopia.

"Just to make sure we're right about the clock."

I instantly agree. I haven't yet had chance to look at the weapons there, and boy would I love to have the smooth handle of an axe in my hand right now. I am the leader of the group as we trek down one of the spokes of land towards the golden horn.

There's no one else around, no hidden Careers or desperate Tributes. Only a glorious pile of weapons. They almost shimmer in the sunlight.

"…the mouse ran up the clock…" Wiress sings.

"Oh, not the song again," I moan, rolling my eyes. "That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking."

Wiress jumps to her feet and points into the jungle.

"Two," she says.

Two? Careers!

"Yes," Katniss shouts and points as well. "Look, Wiress is right. It's two o'clock and the fog has started."

"Like clockwork," Peeta agrees. "You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress."

Oh great, more crazy clock talk. I head towards the weapons, trying to ignore them. I kick away a bloody spear that brings the name 'Sage' to mind.

"She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines," Beetee is telling a riveted audience.

"What's that?" Finnick asks Katniss.

"It's a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there's bad air," she replies.

I frown.

"What's it do, die?"

"It stops singing first. That's when you should get out. But if the air's too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you."

"Oh…" I shrug and then turn my attention back to the weapons at my fingertips.

I could almost squeal with excitement when I find not one, but _two_ sharp axes. They're beautiful. I turn them over in my hands and close my eyes.

I'm back in my backyard, in District 7. There's a nip in the air and goosebumps form on my arms. There's my homemade target just in front of me. I breathe in deeply through my nose and raise the axe in my right hand. Rocking back on my right foot, I spin it around until I can hear it cutting through the air. It leaves my hand of it's own volition and sticks right into the wooden target, with a distinctively metallic clang.

When I open my eyes, the axe is sticking out of the side of the Cornucopia and Katniss and Finnick are watching me.

Peeta isn't, he's bent over something. Katniss goes over to see what he's doing while Finnick heaves my new axe out of it's resting place.

"Nice shot," he says.

"Don't mention it," I wink. "What else takes your fancy here Mr Odair? Could I interest you in a similar model?" I weigh the two axes in my hands.

"I think I'll stick to what I know thank you Miss." He twirls a brand new trident around his forearm and then rests it across his shoulders.

I can't choose between the two axes so I hook both the handles under my purple belt and circle my hips, checking I can move all right with them there.

"Couple of knives?" He holds some small throwing knives between his fingers.

"Don't mind if I do." I take them and tuck them away too.

When we return to the others we are audibly 'clanking' when we move.

Peeta has drawn a sketch of the arena on a leaf and marked out what traps are in what area.

"Did you notice anything unusual in the others?" Katniss asks Beetee and me. We both shake our heads.

"A lot of blood," I reply.

"I guess they could hold anything," Katniss sighs.

"I'm going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers' weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we'll stay clear of those," Peeta announces, scribbling on his leaf. "Well, it's a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway."

I nod, mainly because everyone else is. I still don't know how any of this knowledge is going to help us get out of here. Surely all it's going to do is help us lay-low.

Katniss tenses suddenly. I hear a sort of sloppy sound followed by a sliding thump. In the blink of an eye Katniss has her bow loaded. I am not concentrating on where she is looking though. There's another quiet splash behind us.

I see blonde hair, it's not as pristinely wavy as it usually is, but there is no mistaking its owner. There's almost a smug smile on my face as the axe leaves my hand and buries deep into the perfect chest of District 1's beauty, Cashmere Bentley.

"Told you I'd get you," I sneer as I reclaim my weapon from her body. There's no guilt this time, not when I see what Gloss has done to Wiress, what Cashmere would have done to me if I hadn't been alert. This time, I did the right thing.

Brutus and Enobaria have disappeared behind the Cornucopia but we give chase. Finnick heads clockwise with Katniss, ignoring the knife in his thigh, and I head counter-clockwise, skipping over Gloss's body, an arrow in his temple.

The District 2 Tributes are sprinting down a spit of land towards the jungle. If they disappear in there, we won't be able to find them again.

I am mid-sprint as the ground shifts beneath my feet. The Cornucopia island is spinning, furiously. The jungle beyond melts into a green blur.

"What now?!" I scream in frustration to no one in particular.


	93. Got Nothing To Say?

**A/N Another disclaimer! This is a long chapter because I had to borrow so much dialogue. If you love the book as much as I do, you'll know what isn't mine. If you don't, then it's most of Katniss and Peeta's dialogue. Although I did get to make up some! Thanks Suzanne Collins for writing things like 'And then we talked about things', which let me actually write Katniss a bit (* Fangirl moment*).**

**Chapter Ninety-Three- Got Nothing To Say?**

The centrifugal force shoves the bodies of Cashmere, Gloss and Wiress into the water while the rest of us dig in.

When the spinning finally stops, I feel almost green with dizziness. My hair is thick with sand. Katniss and Peeta are spitting it out of their mouths, while Finnick has his finger almost knuckle-deep in his own ear, scooping out his own personal beach.

"Where's Volts?" I frown.

The others leap up.

Finnick and I set off on the circle around the Cornucopia counter-clockwise, while Peeta and Katniss stumble dizzily clockwise.

When we meet the other two on the other side, they both shake their heads and we shrug out shoulders.

"Where is he?" Peeta rasps, still wiping sand from his tongue.

Finnick shades his eyes from the sun and then points out at the water.

"There, twenty yards or so." He drops his trident with a clatter and runs out into the water until it's deep enough for him to dive into.

Katniss seems to have some sort of fit, her head jerking from side to side. She takes a few steps to one side and then the other.

"What's the matter with her?" I ask Peeta. "Has the spinning crushed her brains against her skull?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't get it either.

"Cover me!" she calls to us before she too drops her weapons to the ground and takes off down one of the spokes of land.

"Love to," I mutter, sliding one of my axes out of my belt-holster. It's the one stained by Cashmere's death. I wonder where her body is now. I can see Wiress not far from where Katniss is running. In fact, Katniss has dived into the water and is now swimming towards her. "Aww man, is she going to cover her with flowers too?" I groan.

Peeta chuckles.

"No, I think she's after something else," he tells me.

There's a lot of splashing coming from the other side of us as Finnick drags Beetee back onto land. He drops him to the ground and bangs Beetee on the back as he coughs up salt water.

"That's two of us that have had to save you now Volts," I sneer, joining in the banging.

"Almost as many times as I've had to save your ass," Beetee splutters and Finnick laughs at my surprised expression.

"I'm going to tell your mother about your potty-mouth Beetee Cohen!" I retort back at him. It was his mother's name that I used for my secret agent mission after all.

Peeta is still watching Katniss. She's fiddling around with Wiress's body; I can see the water around her seeping red from her neck wound.

Beetee sees it too. He sags in his sitting position. Poor guy, now that's all of us without our district partner. Except Katniss and Peeta of course.

When Katniss is on her way back towards us, a hovercraft appears in the sky. A big claw drops down from it's belly and scoops up Wiress. It moves behind the Cornucopia, presumably to pick up Cashmere and Gloss, and then disappears again as quickly and silently as it came.

Katniss strides straight towards Beetee and places something in his lap. His coil of wire. We all stand in silence, just looking at it. We've lost things, we've lost _people _for the sake of this coil, for the sake of the Girl on Fire and her blonde cuddle buddy that she's now cosying up to while the rest of us stand lonely.

"Let's get off this stinking island," I announce, slotting my axe back into my belt.

Everyone nods.

"Hold on," Finnick says. He whips off his undershirt, leaving him now bare-chested, and wraps it around the knife wound in his thigh.

"Are you ok?" I ask him.

"What this little thing? Of course." He winks.

"Any excuse to show off the bod hmm?"

"You know me."

Beetee is on his feet with a little help from our favourite suck-up.

"We should head for twelve o'clock," Finnick says when he finishes tying off his new bandage.

"Yeah, that'll give us a few hours of peace," Peeta agrees.

"Let's just stick to the beach for now. The monkeys, and the fog have really put me off the jungle." Katniss swings her arrows back onto her back and slings the bow over her shoulder. "Let's go."

I head down the spit of land that I remember we went down when I first collected Beetee at the Bloodbath. Finnick has ventured three spokes to my left and Peeta down the one next to me. We all stop and look at each other, then back at Katniss and Beetee.

"Twelve o'clock, right?" Peeta points down his spoke. "The tail points at twelve." Which would make sense if he wasn't at the wrong spoke.

"Before they spun us," calls Finnick. "I was judging by the sun."

"The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick," Miss Know-It-All replies.

I stand there with my hands on my hips. There's no point vocalising my opinion because I'd forgotten already about the spinning.

"I think Katniss's point is, knowing the time doesn't mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well," Beetee informs us all.

All hail the brilliant Katniss. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o'clock," she puts in.

"Well thank you Miss States-The-Obvious," I salute her as we all start another trek around the Cornucopia looking for clues as to which direction to head in.

"There was a tall tree that the first lightning struck!" Katniss's hand shoots into the air, like a preppy child answering a question in school.

"Duh! Take a look around you! There're tall trees in every sector!" I exclaim, remembering the view from the tree I climbed on the first day…was that only yesterday?!

"Every sector is completely uniform," Finnick says sadly.

"Ahh!" I shriek suddenly. "Brutus and Enobaria ran off towards the jungle! Which direction did they go in? We can follow their tracks in the sand!"

"They headed away from the mouth of the Cornucopia which, if the tail pointed to twelve, must be six," Finnick spins around pointing at various spokes of land.

"So we find their tracks, we know where six is, we know where twelve is!" I clap my hands. "I never thought I'd be so grateful to District 2!"

Of course I'm not grateful to District 2. There are no footprints or tracks. The spinning Cornucopia and its accompanying whirlwind means any tracks, aside from our own, have been smoothed over.

"I should have never mentioned the clock." Katniss presses the heels of her palms into her temples frustrated. "Now they've taken that advantage away as well."

"Only temporarily," Beetee comforts her. "At ten, we'll see the wave again and be back on track."

"Yes they can't redesign the whole arena," Peeta reassures her.

Oh dear, is poor little Katniss having an attack of conscience? It's about time, but we don't exactly have _time_ for her to be moping about feeling sorry for herself.

"It doesn't matter. You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water." I turn to survey the jungle beyond. "Anyone have a good gut feeling?"

Finnick leads the way down the closest spoke. I tell him that I'll be cursing his name if the tidal wave at ten o'clock carries us all away.

We pause at the tree line.

"Well," Peeta starts. "It must be monkey hour. And I don't see any of them in there…I'm going to try to tap a tree."

"No," Finnick puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's my turn."

"I'll at least watch your back," Peeta replies.

Finnick catches my eye and I notice his right eyebrow twitch ever so slightly.

"Katniss can do that," I say. I don't know why Finnick doesn't want Peeta there but in all honesty, Katniss will keep Finnick a lot safer from monkeys in the trees with her bow and arrow than Peeta will…or even me. In the meantime I need an excuse to keep Peeta here with me. "We need you to make another map. The other washed away." I grab a leaf off a nearby tree and present it to him as a prop for my lie.

Finnick and Katniss disappear into the trees, leaving Peeta, Beetee and I to our own devices.

"I'm not sure how much of the map I'll be able to draw until that wave comes at ten," Peeta says, bending over the leaf.

"Oh, whatever." I shrug and wander back down to the waters edge, not paying any attention to Peeta's little scratchings.

How much longer will we be here? There must be a plan to get us out, otherwise why are we trying so hard to keep Katniss _and _Peeta alive. If the idea is for Katniss to be the winner and the rest of us to sacrifice our lives for her, then why did Finnick want me to keep Peeta out of the jungle? And why didn't Finnick immediately drop Peeta to save Mags? Peeta must live too, which means we're not seeing this thing out until there is one winner.

"Johanna?" Beetee beckons me over a few steps to his part of the beach.

"If you're going to ask me to wash that damned coil of wire for you then you can think again!" I bark, but make my way over to him anyway.

He shakes his head solemnly and I sit down next to him, our feet stretched out as the water laps up towards them.

"I'm going to need you to do something for me," he says quietly.

My eyes flicker up and down him.

"What…?"

"I don't think you're going to like it…"

"_What_…?"

"I'm formulating a plan and when I ask you to do something, something you might not want to do, I need you to do it."

"Beetee, what are you going to ask me to do?!"

"I haven't fine tuned the details yet…"

"So you don't know! You're being all secretive, getting me all worked up, and you don't even know what it is yet!"

"I told you that you wouldn't like it."

I could tear my hair out. Or his. Yeah I could tear _his _hair out. In fact I might if not for the dull whine from further up the beach.

"Err guys…" Peeta calls.

"What?" I hiss. "Are you done with your little drawing?"

"Did you hear that?"

I groan loudly and push myself to my feet again.

"What, for the love of all things sacred, is the matter now?!"

"Listen!" Peeta cups his hand to his ear like a child. "I thought I heard…"

I fold my arms. There's nothing. Just the sound of the waves.

"I don't hear monkeys!" I exclaim exasperated, although I'd never admit that I'm not entirely sure what monkeys sound like.

"No, I don't hear anything." Beetee has joined us.

"I thought I heard a voice but now…" Peeta replies and turns his ear towards the jungle. "I can't hear birds, or movement in the trees or on the ground, or _anything_."

"So?"

Peeta shrugs at me, frowning.

"I don't know." He starts forward, peering into the trees. "It just seems odd that—" and then he comes into contact with _something_. His head snaps back like he's walked into a wall.

"Ow!" He presses a palm to his forehead. "What was _that_?"

"Obviously not a force field," Beetee muses. "Otherwise you'd be dead already."

My heart pangs. Glassy eyes swim before me.

"Oh I know." Peeta rubs his chest. "I walked into one yesterday. Finnick brought me back though. I'm still pretty sore from his efforts though."

"Sore…count yourself lucky," I murmur. Blight is _dead_.

I try to take my mind off the memory by edging forwards slowly, my palm out flat in front of me. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Something.

"Here." It's flat and completely invisible. I spread my fingers and then place my other hand alongside its partner. I open out my reach until my arms are at their maximum extension. Beetee joins me, and then, tentatively, Peeta stands on the other side of me.

"It's big," Peeta comments.

"It wouldn't surprise me if it covers this entire section of beach." Beetee raps on it with his knuckles. There is no sound. "It seems like it doesn't let sound vibrations through, that's why we can't hear the sounds of the jungle."

"I guess we just found the trap for the four-to-five o'clock section," mutters Peeta.

Finnick and Katniss are still in there.

"I hope this is all it is."

Maybe this is it. Maybe they'll come back and find that they can't get to us, and then when the hour is passed they'll be able to cross back over to us. I really hope there's nothing else in there with them.

Beetee settles himself down prodding at the wall, while Peeta and I keep our hands in front of us and step sideways along, him going left, me going right. My hands are still firmly on the wall when some movement beyond the trees catches my eye.

It's extraordinary. I can see Finnick dragging Katniss behind him. They are barrelling towards us at quite a speed but making no sound.

"Stop!" Peeta cries, banging on the wall. "Stop! There's something here!"

Katniss looks up, sees Peeta, and her face shifts to one of relief. It then hardens on him.

"Stop Katniss! The wall!"

"They can't hear you!" I tell him and start waving and pounding my fist. Surely Finnick will understand. Surely he won't think I'm just waving my fist around.

He does.

He smacks right into the wall, his nose crumpling against his face. Katniss hits it with her shoulder. They both fly backwards with the force of their sudden stop.

Finnick's nose is pouring bright red blood all down his bare chest when he gets to his feet. He approaches it slowly, like I did, with his hand out. I stand in front of him, and bang on the wall again, then shrug.

He tries from his side. There isn't so much as a faint clink.

"Can you hear me?" I say, against the wall.

He shakes his head and touches his ears with his index fingers. His mouth makes the same shapes as mine.

'_Can you hear me?'_

I shake my head and touch my ears. As I make the movement, my axes clank together at my belt.

I flick my fingers at him.

"Stand back! Get back!" I shout, shaping my mouth deliberately so he can read my lips. I swing the axe into the wall and don't even make a chink.

Peeta tries with his dagger, and I swing again, even harder. Nothing.

Katniss and Peeta imitate a similar interaction to Finnick's and mine to my left. Their hands are touching, with the wall in between.

"It'll be ok. It'll disappear at five o'clock," he's saying but she just stares. Now she's deaf as well as dumb.

Ha. That's a good one. I think about saying it out loud but I don't think it'll be received very well at the moment. I'll save it until later.

Finnick glances up at the canopy above them. A couple of birds are up there.

"What's that?" I nod at them.

Peeta's face turns pale.

"Is it monkeys?"

"No, birds."

"Carnivorous birds?"

Before our eyes, it seems as if Finnick melts. He slides down to the ground, staring in horror above him. He clamps his hands over his ears.

"They're making a sound!" Beetee exclaims. "It must be awful!"

Finnick has curled up in a ball, while Katniss furiously glares at the flock beyond, releasing all her arrows into their midst. However, she soon gives up too and takes her position on the ground next to my friend.

And so passes the hour; we watch our friends suffer terribly in front of us without being able to do a thing about it.

When the wall finally disappears, Peeta falls forward. He's spent the whole hour leaning against it, just waiting. He carries Katniss out of the jungle while Beetee and I brace Finnick between us.

"Are you ok?" I ask him.

He mutely shakes his head.

"Here, sit down." We lower him clumsily and he sits there, his arms around his knees, his head down.

"It was Jabberjays," he finally croaks. "They've got her. They've got Annie. I heard it, they were…hurting her." His fists clench and he drives them into his eyes. It looks like they finally broke him.

"No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?" Peeta is saying Katniss. "What happens? At the final eight?"

"At the final eight?" she replies. "They interview your family and friends back home."

"That's right. They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they've killed them all?"

"No?"

"No. That's how we know Prim's alive. She'll be the first one they interview, won't she? First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge."

Gosh isn't Katniss a popular girl at home. Lucky her.

"It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we're the only ones who can be hurt by it. We're the ones in the Games. Not them."

The Blonde Cuddle Buddy speaks sense.

"You really believe that?"

"I really do."

At my feet, Finnick too has been captured by Peeta's confident words.

Katniss turns to him.

"Do you believe it, Finnick?"

He nods slowly.

"It could be true. I don't know. Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone's regular voice and make it…"

Beetee pushes his glasses up his nose again.

"Oh yes. It's not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school." He nods furiously.

I'm bored of this now.

"Of course Peeta's right. The whole country adores Katniss's little sister. If they really killed her like this, they'd probably have an uprising on their hands." A wry smile crosses my lips. What was it Melanita said to me before I got in the hovercraft? "Don't want that, do they?" Almost laughing now, I raise my arms to the sky and bellow, "Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn't want anything like that!"

Everyone is staring at me now. I can see it on all their faces. They think I've gone crazy, shouting treacherous words like those. I don't doubt that the cameras are on the other side of the arena right now and, if we don't escape, I will be punished. I don't care.

I push past everyone to gather some large shells from the beach. "I'm getting water," I announce.

When I pass the group again, Katniss catches my hand. I want to shake it off immediately but her voice pleads,

"Don't go in there. The birds—"

"They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love." I shake her away and stride emotionless into the trees.

I finish tapping the tree that I can see Finnick and Katniss had started, and fill up a couple of the shells. One of Katniss's arrows lies discarded nearby so I pick it up. She'll be much more use if she's armed. I venture further into the trees in search of others when I hear a flutter of wings in the tree above me. It's past five now, the Jabberjays should have been recalled.

I eye up the solitary black bird. This is my punishment. I know it. The cameras will be elsewhere, perhaps on those on the beach now. Unless they're discussing my outburst. No one will see this.

The Jabberjay looks down, mocking me.

"Why the long face? Go on do your worst!" I sneer at it. It doesn't reply. "You can't can you? There's no one left for you to tease me with!"

It follows me in silence. It flaps from branch to branch as I search out the rest of Katniss's arrows.

After a while I lose my temper with it.

"What's the matter Noisy Bitch? Got nothing to say?"

It stares at me again.

It's only when I turn away to return to the beach that I hear a sound from it's beak.

"Corporal Iberio Phillips, Third Unit of the District 2 Peacekeeping Core."

It's his voice for sure. The Jabberjay repeats his name and rank over and over.

I smile. They're just trying to rile me, to tell me that they know about Iberio, but I already knew that. Thanks Melanita.

"Nice try but that's _old_ information."

I start walking and the bird still follows me, quoting Iberio once more before it falls silent again. It then takes a different tack.

There's one single scream. A cry. A pleading.

"Jo-Jo!"

Joey.

It sounds so genuine that it takes me a second to remember that he's dead. My legs give out underneath me and I sink to the floor. They're teasing me with a ghost.

"You bastards," I mumble as my dead brother screams louder for me to help him. I can't help him. I couldn't help him. They must have taken samples of his voice from when I was in the Top 8 of my Game.

'_There's no one left I love' _but there is…because I still love him, even though he's dead. It still hurts me to hear him in pain.

Tears prickle at my eyes but I pinch the back of my hand hard in an attempt to pull myself back together. Then there's another flutter of feathers. A second jabberjay has joined the party.

"What's the matter Noisy Bitch? Got nothing to say? What's the matter Noisy Bitch? Got nothing to say?" It parrots at me. Great, they've finally realised that my real worst enemy is myself. Me and my big mouth.

"Jo-Jo!"

"What's the matter Noisy Bitch? Got nothing to say?"

When I rise to my feet again, gathering the arrows and water, the Jabberjays stay behind, letting me escape.

I can still hear them. They're in my head now. When I pass Katniss a shell of water, she nods her thanks without saying a word but I can see the pity in her eyes.

What's the matter Noisy Bitch? Got nothing to say?


	94. The Plan

**A/N Beetee's plan does not belong to me and neither does the discussion about it. **

**Chapter Ninety-Four- The Plan**

I have to take some time out by myself after I relinquish my water supplies so I sit alone.

Finnick is obviously feeling the same way because he doesn't try to talk to me. Neither do any of the others.

I'm lonely. What kind of life have I got that no one comes to see if I'm alright? Another result of my big mouth.

I sit there under my grey cloud for a long time. What am I even doing here? Why did I bother? The rebellion's not going to work, not against people that can do this to you. Not against people who can bring the dead back to life just to mock you.

What is the point? Why should we bother?

I'm a step away from giving up and planning the best way to die to inconvenience as many people as possible, when another cannon fires.

A hovercraft appears and collects bits of another Tribute from the six to seven o'clock section. I look around to see if any of the others see it. It startles me to find that Beetee is sat not four feet away from me, and Katniss and Peeta are stood behind me. Finnick draws closer too.

We all watch in silence as the claw dips again and again for parts of the person they used to make up. When the hovercraft has gone, Peeta scribbles something on his leaf-map. He's marked on the Jabberjays and jots Beast into the mysterious section.

Finnick shakes his head, takes a deep breath and walks towards the treeline.

I watch him carefully. I should tell him that there are still jabberjays in there but I can't. He'd just ask me how I knew and I'd have to explain.

He doesn't go too far, just enough to collect everything he needs to make another water basket. Then he sits there weaving. When he's done, he makes a net. I can't help but remember the phone conversation we had before the 74th Games when he was making nets with Annie and Mags. Now Mags is dead and, through the jabberjays, the Capitol has threatened him with Annie's life.

He'd probably be a bit upset if I died, but if he got out and got to Annie before the Capitol, it would all be worth it. As I watch him disappearing into his own blank torment, I know that he will lose me to save her any day. It hurts but it's the truth. If I am going to die, I might as well do it during Beetee's plan to get us out of here.

I'm wholly useless that evening. I don't help Finnick catch the fish, I don't help Katniss prepare the meal and I don't help Peeta put some of their ointment on his fog-burnt skin. I talk to Beetee.

"This plan..." I start.

"Mmm?" he replies, staring out at the water instead of at me.

"Is it coming together yet?"

"It's getting there."

Helpful as always Volts.

"I just wanted to say that...I mean let you know that...I'm in. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it."

He finally turns his gaze to me.

"Even if-"

"Even if," I confirm. "I'll do it."

"We'll need a runner."

"I can run," I nod. "And shimmy up a tree pretty damn fast if I need to keep out of sight."

"Yes," he muses, adjusting his glasses again. "Yes, we'll need some way of keeping out of sight."

"Then I'm your girl."

Beetee swallows nervously and his eyes flicker upwards to the sky.

You...er...understand that some of us will need to get lost more than others?" In a deliberate, but discreet movement, he touches his forearm, and turns it into a scratch. "This damn saltwater is irritating my skin to no end!" he covers up.

He means our trackers. We need to get lost, or some of us do, so we need to get rid of our trackers.

"Katniss told me earlier that the salt can dry up the skin," I make up on the spot. "Did she tell you the same?"

"She did," he agrees. So Katniss is one of those who need to be tracker-less. "But no one else has mentioned being itchy to me. Katniss and I must be the only ones, though I'm not suffering as much as her I don't think."

Katniss is top priority then, what a surprise. It seems like no one else needs to get lost like she does. I guess she is the Mockingjay and the Capitol would target her as soon as they realised something was up.

"Dinner time!" Peeta calls to us from the little camp the other three have made.

"It better not be that rank fish I saw you dragging out earlier," I gripe, distancing myself from Beetee.

"I'm sorry, would madam like a list of the specials?" Finnick rolls his eyes and slops my fish into one of his weaved baskets.

I jab at it with a finger.

"Urgh, it's not even cooked! Is this safe to eat?"

"Oh pipe down and eat it," Katniss scolds me.

I'm about to retort something cutting and awesome, but a familiar tune starts up and we all automatically look up at the sky over the Cornucopia.

I feel disgustingly smug when I see Cashmere's face up there. She always acted like she was better than everyone else. We showed her, and her brother. There's Gloss. Gloss who had a soft spot for me but still tried to sandwich me between his and his sister's knives.

Wiress. Katniss touches Beetee's shoulder gently.

I know what's next, and lay my hand open on Finnick's leg. He takes it and holds on tightly.

Mags. It's a horrible picture, her Training photo. She looks old and weary in it. There's none of her sparkle in it. You can't see how young she is on the inside from that picture.

Solange's face comes up next. I wonder whether she was the one in bits earlier, or the one caught in the tidal wave. I can't think which would be best…

Then we see the female morphling. That's District 6.

Finnick squeezes my hand again, and I dig my fingernails into the back of his hand.

I want to close my eyes but, just like every other time, they stay transfixed on the sky.

Blight.

I have to hold my breath to keep in the sob that threatens in my chest. He should be here with us now. That stupid force field! That damn rain! Finnick covers my hand with his, perhaps to comfort me, but perhaps to ease my painful fingernails.

There's another face after Blight but I don't pay attention to it. I still see his face.

"They're really burning through us," I say quietly.

"Who's left?" asks Finnick. "Besides us five and District Two?"

Chaff, I think, remembering how I just left him fighting District One. Peeta vocalises my thought so I don't have to. I tear my eyes away from the sky, still shining silver with the Captiol seal, and attend to poor Finnick's hands.

"Sorry," I whisper. My middle fingernail has drawn blood from his second knuckle.

We're distracted by a swooping sound from above. My breath catches in my throat as I expect another onslaught from the jabberjays. Peeta jumps up and waves his hands in the air. It's a parachute. He reveals a pile of small, square bread rolls.

Finnick drops my hands and shuffles over to inspect them.

"These are from your district, right, Beetee?" Peeta shows them.

"Yes, from District Three," comes the reply. "How many are there?"

Finnick takes them from Peeta and counts them out before laying them in a tidy formation.

"Twenty-Four," he announces.

"An even two dozen, then?" Beetee asks.

"Twenty-four on the nose." The two of them share a look that doesn't escape me. "How should we divide them?"

I roll my eyes. This whole 'sharing' thing was so much easier when I wasn't part of a team.

"Let's each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest."

Katniss laughs. It takes me by surprise. No one else laughs at my comments. Finnick usually just replies sarcastically or banters with me, but a laugh…that's as good as _admiration_.

We eat our mushy raw fish and bread rolls, talking softly until Beetee and I finally get to witness the enormous wave that emerges from the jungle in the ten-to-eleven-o'clock section. We make our way around to that beach when it's dried off to make camp again.

I offer to take first watch, even though my eyes are drooping, because I'm afraid of discovering what seeds of nightmares have been sown into my brain after the events of today.

Katniss and Peeta immediately talk over my offer and brush me away to go to sleep with Beetee and Finnick. I think about arguing, then realise that I don't actually have the energy so probably could use the rest.

"Just wake me up before the tidal wave does, yeah?" I tell them.

Beetee and Finnick are both lying on their sides, facing the trees but I can see Finnick's lips moving. They must be talking about the plan…or me.

I step over Finnick's body to cosy on down between the two men.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," I say sweetly.

"Of course you are," Finnick moans and rolls onto his back.

"What'cha talking about?"

"I was just telling Finnick that you were in on my plan," Beetee's back tells me.

"Oh so Finnick knows the plan then?"

"Some of it," he chimes in.

"I haven't fine tuned it yet…" Beetee adds.

"Still?"

Silence answers me. The two boys are faking immediate slumber. So childish.

They know something about what's going to happen. Why wasn't I included? Maybe Plutarch and the rebels didn't expect me to survive for very long after I delivered Beetee and Wiress.

Let's face it, a couple of hours ago I was planning an appropriate time to die anyway. Because of the birds. The birds that were there after their scheduled trap time… And Plutarch is the one behind the controls…And he hasn't filled me in on any of the plan after saving Beetee…

Were the jabberjays meant to be a trap for me? Was that section rigged for me? Now I've done my job, is Plutarch taking me out of the game by driving me crazy with voices of the dead?

A cold shiver slices through my sweaty body. It's paranoia, I know it is but I can't shake it. Why don't I know what is going on?!

I ponder this for a dangerously long time. Beetee and Finnick snore softly on either side of me. Finnick didn't want Peeta to accompany him into the jungle. I took that to mean that we had to keep Peeta safe. What if Finnick actually wanted me to go with him? Did my friend know that the trap was set for me?

No.

Stop it Johanna! Finnick wouldn't do that. I know I decided earlier that he would sacrifice me to save Annie but he wouldn't knowingly lead me into a trap. Besides, the trap broke him even more than it did me.

Occasionally Finnick stirs and calls for Annie. She must be heartbroken watching all this, if she is of course.

I fade into a horribly broken sleep, peppered with Joey's screams and Blight's bloody face staring up at me. At midnight, I hear the lightning strike the tree but I'm too exhausted to get up, or even open my eyes. I lie there, listening to the storm happening two sectors away, knowing that the last time it woke me was when I lost the last person that was truly looking out for me.

Finnick gets up to relieve Katniss and Peeta, but I don't know if they send him away again. One set of footsteps returns to us but doesn't lie next to me.

In the morning, the sun beats down on my cheek. I slap a hand over it to try and prolong my doze but then my hand starts to cook too.

Sand flies into my face as Beetee clumsily gets up. I groan and roll onto my front, hoping gravity will get the sand off my face before I open my eyes. When I'm finally brave enough to open them, I see Finnick walking out of the water, his hair dripping, and Beetee talking to Peeta. Katniss is still flat out on the beach not far away.

"We all made it through the night!" I clap my hands and then stretch out my arms and legs. "Good job guys, well done." I wriggle down onto my back again and stare up at the pink sky. "Aww crap, what is that?" I point up at a black speck that seems to be getting closer. "We didn't accidentally move into the 'The Sky Is Falling' sector did we?"

Finnick grabs his nearest trident and Beetee adjusts his glasses.

"It's _another_ parachute," Peeta exclaims.

Katniss joins us just as it lands. Finnick is the first one with his hands on it. More bread, the same amount as last time. District 3 ones again. Beetee must have a lot of supporters.

I silently take my five rolls, it doesn't seem right, in the sunlight, to joke about who might be still alive to eat the remainder. My silence means I take the time to evaluate my allies over breakfast. Beetee looks preoccupied, thinking about his plan, and Finnick looks tired, but Katniss and Peeta look awkward. They are sat together but seem to both be taking care not to touch each other. I bet something's going on between them…

When we've finished eating, Katniss takes Peeta's hand.

"Come on. I'll teach you how to swim," and she tugs him down towards the water.

"Is now the time?" Beetee calls after them, but I don't think they hear.

"They're going to talk about us," Finnick says on his way past with an armful of vines.

"Obviously," I agree. "Probably about you two though, _I_ haven't done anything wrong."

Both of them snort.

Peeta is flailing about in the water while Katniss tries to show him some arm movements. She keeps looking over at us though.

"If she's really teaching him to swim, then they should get rid of that belt," Finnick comments. "I mean if you're going to lie, at least make it believable!" He's started making another net with the vines.

"Why are you making _another_ one of those things?"

He looks up at me, eyebrows almost meeting in the middle in a frown.

"It keeps my hands busy." He purses my lips.

I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, I'm going for a nap, wake me up if the lovebirds make a dash for it. They're looking pretty flighty over there."

I flop back down on the beach and try to squeeze in another few minutes of rest. I hear Katniss call out to Finnick. I turn away from them. She can try to persuade my friend to run away with her if she likes. This is just like the schoolyard and I will deal with it appropriately… I'll ignore it, but if he goes with them I will hunt them all down and pull their hair. I smile to myself, life was better when having your hair pulled was the worst thing someone did to you.

"Mason!" Finnick calls.

I ignore him because that's Step One of Schoolyard Justice.

"Mason, get up!" He's closer now.

I don't move until he's stood over me.

"Johanna, stop ignoring me."

"I'm sleeping," I tell him.

"Oh ok, well I'll just tell Beetee to go ahead and reveal his plan without you then."

My eyes shoot open.

"I'm up!"

He chuckles and offers me his hand to pull me to my feet.

Beetee is drawing a circle in the sand when we return to the group. It's a rough version of the arena.

"If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?" Beetee looks around us, like a teacher.

"Where we are now. On the beach. It's the safest place," Peeta answers. What a teacher's pet.

"So why aren't they on the beach?" asks Beetee.

"Because we're here," I say. Duh.

"Exactly. We're here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?"

Katniss wrinkles her nose as she thinks. It's kind of funny.

"I'd hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us," she says.

"Also to eat," puts in Finnick. "The jungle's full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I'd know the seafood's safe."

Good point. I wouldn't have even thought of going fishing in this water, if not for Finnick.

"Yes, good." Beetee is impressed too. "You do see. Now here's what I propose: a twelve o'clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?"

"The lightning bolt hits the tree." Katniss beats me to the answer.

"Yes. So what I'm suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive."

Conductive?

"When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o'clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted."

I thought his plan was to get us _out_. What is the point in going to all this trouble to get rid of Brutus and Enobaria? It'll just mean that we're the only ones left, and if Katniss and Peeta are as clueless to all this as they seem to be, then won't they just turn on us? They'll think it's still part of the Game. They'll see it as we've taken out the biggest threats and now they can take us out too. I'm not having that bow-toting princess killing me in my sleep.

"Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, Beetee?" Peeta frowns. "It looks so fragile, like it would just burn up."

"Oh, it will." Beetee nods. "But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it."

I look at his precious wire.

"How do you know?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Because I invented it. It's not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn't it?"

It sure would. I look over at the twelve o'clock tree. It would have been split down the middle, in splinters. I've seen a couple of trees that have suffered a similar fate.

"Yes," I admit.

"Don't worry about the wire- it will do just what I say."

"And where will we be when this happens?" asks Finnick.

"Far enough up in the jungle to be safe," comes the reply.

"The Careers will be safe, too, then, unless they're in the vicinity of the water," Katniss says.

She's right, and Beetee tells her so.

"But all the seafood will be cooked," Peeta points out.

"Probably more than cooked," Beetee agrees. "We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, right, Katniss?"

Our Tracker Extraordinaire nods.

"Yes. Nuts and rats. And we have sponsors."

Speak for yourself.

"Well, then. I don't see that as a problem, but as we are allies and this will require all our efforts, the decision of whether or not to attempt it is up to you four."

We all study each other. Finnick is studying me a little too hard. I widen my eyes at him. He narrows his at me. He's trying to judge my thoughts on the plan.

Katniss optimistically says that it can't hurt to try and Peeta quickly backs her up.

Finnick looks back at me again, eyebrows raised. I still don't get why he's so interested in what I think. I already told Beetee that I'm happy to be in any plan, but I don't see how 'getting lost' will factor in here. There's got to be another level to this plan, one they don't want to say out loud.

"All right!" I tell him, and find Katniss is watching me too. "It's better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves." I aim the last sentence at Finnick and Beetee so that they see that I still haven't worked it out.

Our enemies are not the District 2 hunters on our heels, they're much cleverer than that, and I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.


	95. My Pleasure

**A/N- Usual disclaimer: Some of these words are not mine etc. **

**Chapter Ninety-Five- My Pleasure**

"I'd like to take a look at the lightning tree before I rig up my wire," Beetee announces. "That's why I think we should aim for the strike at midnight, not noon."

Everyone nods and starts packing up our few belongings. It must be nearly Wave o'clock anyway.

We stroll on over to the eleven o'clock beach, and even that short walk has Beetee wheezing.

"Beetee, will you be alright going up the slope?" Katniss asks him, concerned.

"He'll be fine," I answer on his behalf. "He walked up and down the slope before, right after he got stabbed." I stride ahead of the group. "Come on!"

"Actually…I…" gasps the old man.

"Don't worry Volts," Finnick stops and passes Peeta his trident. "Hop on my back. Peeta and I don't mind sharing you, do you we Peeta?"

"Of course not!" Peeta smiles.

Urgh, what a pair of suck ups!

I lead the group through the jungle. I quite enjoy it, truth be told. It feels very different trekking through the trees without the desperate thirst and exhaustion we experienced the last time. I warm up my arms by slinging my axe through a few vines in our way. I accidentally get a little sidetracked and find we've veered slightly to the right but correct our course before anyone notices.

Katniss is bringing up the rear of our group with her bow and arrow, she thinks she's our best bet at defence. She seems to be struggling though. We have to stop a few times at her request for water.

At our last stop, as he swaps Beetee's weight back from Peeta, Finnick suggests Katniss leads the group since we're nearing the force field.

"Katniss can hear the force field," he tells Beetee and I.

Is that so?

"Hear it?" Beetee frowns.

"Only with the ear the Capitol reconstructed," she says sheepishly.

She's quite the superhuman isn't she? I roll my eyes at Finnick but keep my mouth shut.

"Then by all means, let Katniss go first. Force fields are nothing to play around with," Beetee cleans up his glasses and motions for us to continue up the hill.

I am supposed to be covering our rear, but instead I walk alongside Finnick and Beetee.

"It's a shame my Capitol reconstructed boobs can't tell us the time, or when it's going to rain," I sneer.

"I have a Capitol ear too," Beetee informs me.

"Really?" I say, surprised. "Can you hear the force field as well then?" I narrow my eyes at him, "and let's keep in mind that I have two axes in my belt and you were present when my Mentor died because he didn't know the force field was there."

"No, no, I can't hear the force field," he says quickly. "Then again I am old and struggle to hear when there's someone at my front door."

"I have a Capitol nose." Finnick taps his. "Can't say I pick up any extra smells through it."

"Me too!" I exclaim. "I didn't know we had a nose in common! How did you get yours?"

"Smashed it on the ground during the 'Big Finale' of my Game. Not my finest moment, still rocked the look though, you?"

"District 2 kicked me," I reply, wrinkling my nose at the very memory of Granite's boot being planted into my face. "Aww what if our noses were made by the same person. Our noses might be siblings!"

Finnick raises both his eyebrows at me and gives me a small wonky smile.

"I think the heat's getting to you Mason."

The tree we're after suddenly towers above us.

"Everyone wait here," Katniss instructs, taking a handful of nuts with her as she inspects the area for the force field.

"Sure thing Mom," I retort before turning tail and wandering back downhill.

"She said stay here," Peeta calls after me.

I'm getting a bit bored with Katniss thinking she's our leader, I mean according to the rebels she is, but I'm not going to let her find out that I know that.

"I'm going to get some water." I stick my tongue out at him.

"Katniss has the spile," Beetee reminds me.

"Oh for…" I groan loudly and flop to the ground where I'd stood.

When the great Chosen One returns she tells us that we're safe as long as we stay below the lightning tree.

"My boobs said the same thing," I tell Finnick under my breath.

"Johanna?" Katniss turns to me.

"Mmm?"

She holds out the spile. "Would you mind tapping for water?"

I grit my teeth to keep from screaming at her that I would have already done that if she weren't keeping a possessive hold of the spile like she was the Mayor of Hydration.

"It would be my absolute pleasure, Katniss."

When I return with a basketful of water, I find Finnick talking to Beetee as the latter circles the tree. Peeta is further down the slope collecting more nuts and Katniss is nowhere to be seen.

Hunting tree rats, I'm told when I enquire. I reply that it'll be nice to eat something that isn't slimy and requires more than one chew per bite.

"Will you be ok to go at midnight?" Beetee asks me quietly, still inspecting the tree.

"Sure…" I shrug.

"You don't have to," Finnick says. "I'll do it instead."

The audience, if they're showing us right now, must be chomping at the bit to find out what we're planning.

"No," I say lightly. "I'll do it…whatever it is." Remove Katniss's tracker, that's all I know.

Katniss returns with her spoils and then her and Peeta sit just beyond a 'danger line' that she's drawn in the dirt, and cook their gathered food using the energy of the force field.

"What do we do if Brutus and Enobaria get the drop on us before we rig this trap then?" I snap a tiny sample of bark off the trunk and turn it over in my fingers.

"Lure them away, I guess," Finnick suggests as Beetee pushes past him to take a closer look at the space on the trunk that my bark has come from.

"So you want me to take them on, rather than lure them back to the group?" I frown.

"You better not be taking either of them on one-on-one," Finnick says sharply. "I mean _we'll_ lure them away, you and me. We're their biggest threats, well, and Katniss, but in her _condition_ we should try to keep her out of it. We'll take them on as a team, deal?"

I smile. How could I have even suspected that he would have purposefully led me into a trap? Yes, he might put Annie before me, but he wouldn't put himself before me.

"Deal." I shake his hand firmly, but he doesn't let go.

"You better not die Mason," he says.

"Ditto, Odair."

Beetee then snaps off another piece of bark and takes it over to where Katniss and Peeta are sitting. He throws it at the force field. It ricochets straight back, glowing slightly. After lying untouched on the ground for a moment, the bark turns back to its original colour.

"Well, that explains a lot," Beetee says to himself.

Finnick and I share a look.

'_Does it?' _I mouth. He nods wisely, then widens his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't know either. I shove him in the chest for trying to be a wise guy.

He laughs but it gets cut short by a clicking sound coming from the jungle to our left as we face the force field, the eleven-to-twelve o'clock sector.

"It's not mechanical," Beetee, our resident expert, informs us.

"I'd guess insects," Katniss frowns. "Maybe beetles."

"Something with pincers," agrees Finnick.

It gets louder, as though it has heard our voices. Perhaps beyond the trees is a swarm of insects straining to break the boundary and chow down on our flesh.

"We should get out of here, anyway," I say loudly. "There's less than an hour before the lightning starts."

I lead the way again, only faltering when I realise that we are back in the blood-rain section. Peeta has Beetee, which leaves Finnick's arms free for him to sling one around my shoulders and drag me alongside him. He plants a kiss on the top of my head before we break apart. His little way of saying he knows what's going on in my head.

I help Katniss lay out the nuts and tree rats, while Peeta shares out the water. We have a little picnic under the trees. It would be pleasant if it weren't for the fact that I know Blight died not too far away from this exact spot.

"Katniss," Beetee starts. "Perhaps you could climb up into the canopy and take a look at the lightning. Let me know how it behaves from the sky would you?"

Katniss agrees and, albeit rather clumsily if you ask me, clambers up, almost out of sight.

I can't deny that I'm fuming.

I grit my teeth and address Beetee as calmly as I can.

"I'm assuming that there's a reason you didn't want me to do that?" He knows I could have got up that tree much faster than Katniss. "Or were you just trying to hurt my feelings, because I really would advise against doing that…"

"Peeta?" Beetee calls.

Peeta jumps, surprised by his voice. He'd been staring up the tree, obvious worry in the lines of his face.

"Peeta, we need to ask you about something…" Finnick says.

"Do we?!" I glare at the two older men.

"Do you trust us Peeta?" Beetee asks.

"I wouldn't," I growl.

"Shut up Mason." Finnick pushes me behind him. "Peeta, do you trust us to look after you and Katniss?"

Confused, Peeta's eyes flick between the two of them.

"I guess…but the way you guys are looking at me right now is kinda making me nervous…"

I'm told to keep an eye out for Katniss returning while Beetee and Finnick talk to Peeta. They explain to him that Katniss and I are going to have to leave the group to plant the coil in the water and it is imperative that he stays with the boys.

"Katniss may want to keep you close," Beetee explains.

"But for both of your safety, you need to stay with us. Johanna will take care of Katniss. She won't believe anyone else except you, so if she wants you to go with her, you need to stand firm."

"Be a man!" I chime in.

Above me the leaves rustle.

"Look out." I whistle to the other three. "Steady Katniss, don't fall dear," I coo, and then laugh at myself.

Katniss drops from the lowest branch and proceeds to tell Beetee what we all knew; the lightning hit the tree. Big surprise.

Eager not to be caught in the blood-rain again, I almost skip down the slope to the beach. While we trek back around to our ten o'clock beach, we decide to make sure we're all rested over the course of the afternoon. Beetee stays up, fiddling with his wire, and the rest of us take turns at keeping him company.

He's really bad company. I sit up with him after Finnick and he does nothing but mumble to himself, stretching the wire out between the span of his arms, and then coiling it up again.

Peeta guards after me, and I get another little snooze. When I wake up, everyone else is up and restless.

Katniss suggests we make the most of our seafood source while we can and Finnick does a crash course in spear fishing and oyster diving. I am not at all interested. Not even when Katniss exclaims about how beautiful the flowers on the bottom of the water are. I sit on the edge of the water and watch them, my ears pricked for the sound of intruders behind us.

Peeta spits water at Katniss, like Finnick did to me yesterday, and Finnick does a somersault, his legs waving straight up in the air. It's all starting to look too…right. The plan's coming together, whatever it is, and we might actually make it out of this place.

The others start to clean out the oysters they've collected. I peer into one of them and am immediately put off oysters. I've always avoided them in the Capitol because I didn't know what they were. Now I know, they do still not enamour me so I wander off to keep watch over by the tree line. It's a largely boring job, occasionally there'll be a rustle in the vines though and I'll have an axe in my hand when a tree rat darts out. Once I think I see something larger moving deeper in the trees but it doesn't appear again.

Just after Finnick calls me over for dinner, we hear a familiar swooping sound. It's another parachute with another twenty-four District 3 rolls, but this time there's also a pot of red sauce. It's _beautiful_, in that special way that a new taste, after days of salty, slimy fish, nuts and bread, can bring tears to your eyes. I eat and eat and eat, and there's still some left. We destroy the leftovers by throwing them into the water. We can't keep it because it'll spoil apparently, and we don't want Brutus or Enobaria to get it so it gets dumped.

To waste time, Finnick and I draw targets in the sand and take turns flicking our knives, axes and trident into it. I'm even allowed to have a go with Finnick's trident. I stand there holding it by my side.

"Ooh it's heavy!" I turn to see what everyone else is doing. Katniss and Peeta seem to be having a moment together, sitting quietly holding hands so I shouldn't disturb them… "Hey! Look!" I wave the trident up and down. "I'm a tiny person trying to eat my dinner with a giant fork!"

"Ok, that's enough of that," Finnick scolds, removing the weapon from my hands.

It was worth it.

Not long after that, the Capitol anthem plays in the sky. I don't bother looking up, there's been no cannons today, so there will be no faces in the sky tonight.

Finnick and Katniss decide when it's nine o'clock so we start our morning hike again under the cover of darkness. The seafood bonanza from earlier sits heavily in my stomach as I walk, and when we reach the lightning tree, I have to stop and lean against it.

"I think I'm going to vom fish everywhere," I moan.

"Go do it somewhere else please," Finnick bangs me hard on the back.

"Finnick?" Beetee calls from the other side of the trunk. "Could you come and help me?"

They stand on either side of the tree and pass the metal spool back and forth between them, wrapping the wire around the tree. I get bored watching them, but I notice that Beetee has left a long stretch of wire spare from the beginning of the coil. He's wound it around another branch and is stepping around it to weave patterns around the trunk. Why isn't he using that bit?

When he's done we all gather back together.

"Alright," Beetee starts, pushing his glasses back up his nose, his breathing heavier from his strenuous work. "Now we need to get the end of the wire down to the water. Johanna and Katniss, you're the most surefooted on this kind of terrain, would you two be able to run with the spool down to the water, drop it in with however much coil is left on it, make sure it sinks completely and then run for the jungle? By my reckoning you could do it if you leave now."

"I want to go with them as a guard," Peeta says urgently.

Beside me, I feel Finnick throw him the same furious look as I do. What is he _doing? _We went through this! If he wants to get Katniss out safe then he needs to let me disappear into the woods with her and do what _I_ need to do. She must have said something to him during that soppy moment on the beach. Damn her, and him!

"You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard. There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." Beetee does it so tactfully, and hands me the coil.

"It's ok," Katniss says to Peeta, and the three of us collectively release our bated breath. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up."

"Not into the lightning zone," Beetee puts in. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two- o'clock sector. If you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage."

Hmm so if this plan is to bust us out, then Beetee doesn't want us running to the beach. Is that because the electric danger is real? Or because that's the opposite way to the direction help is coming from?

Katniss and Peeta take another soppy moment.

"Mason…" Finnick says softly.

"What?"

"I can do it," he offers one more time.

"Come on," I wave the offer away. " We're 'the most surefooted on this kind of terrain'."

"If there's trouble…"

"I know, I know." Get Katniss out.

"Here," He holds up two of my knives that he'd collected from our target game on the beach. I'll need something smaller than my axes to remove Katniss's tracker. "You know what to do?"

I snatch the knives from him and put them in my belt. Katniss and Peeta are still smooching. I narrow my eyes at them.

"Finnick, it will be my absolute pleasure."


	96. Come Back Fierce

**Chapter Ninety-Six- Come Back Fierce**

"Ready?" Katniss asks when she's finally dropped her Cuddle Buddy.

"Why not?" I shrug. "You guard, I'll unwind. We can trade off later," because I'll need my hands free later when I hack into your arm to dig out that little chip you've got under your skin.

I set off down the slope first and Katniss stays two steps behind me, keeping her eyes open. We don't talk. I need to make sure we're far enough away from everyone else before I cut her.

I'm hoping that the look I gave her when I took the knife from Finnick will have the audience thinking I'm going to double-cross her. They'll all be booing and hissing when I jump her later. It should keep the Gamemakers guessing about what's going on here too; maybe hold them off for a while. I'll probably do it after we've dumped the wire…or maybe just before.

Halfway down the slope we hear the insects from the eleven-to-twelve o'clock section. We have less than an hour.

"Better hurry. I want to put a lot of distance between me and that water before the lightning hits. Just in case Volts miscalculated something," I say.

"I'll take the coil for a while," Katniss offers. How sweet of her…

"Here," I give it to her. There's a brief moment when our hands touch across the spool and something vibrates. The wire that I've been laying behind me slivers down at us. It's been cut and the end pools at our feet.

Katniss and I share a look, then stare up the slope. Someone has cut it. Someone who is _not_ on our side.

It has to be now.

Katniss is reaching to her quiver for an arrow. If she fights, she might get killed. Now is the time to get lost.

I hit her. Not with my fist, with the metal spool, right into the side of her head. She crumples to the floor. I have to roll her over to do my job.

Boo! Hiss! Johanna Mason what are you doing?!

I sit on her chest, my knees against her shoulders just in case she wakes up. Thanks wrestling trainer. I unhook one of the knives from my belt and with only a pause to find the soft blink from the tracker, I stab it into her flesh.

Above me I hear heavy footsteps. Brutus, unmistakably, and he's coming.

_Come on Johanna!_

I feel something resist the point of the knife. I've managed to stick it straight into the tracker itself. I don't know if it's still working or not, I twist the knife and with a big heave I pull it straight through the skin. Blood sprays out of the wound, hitting me in the face and chest.

A voice calls not far away.

If she just stays on the ground, they might think she's dead. I cover my hands in her blood and smear it across her face. Her eyes are open. She thinks, I'm sure like everyone else, I'm going to kill her. I could kill her. Right now. Knife across the throat and then I'm out of there. Beetee will bust us out using his wire, and her body will be left behind. I'm pretty sure this bit of wire isn't important, that's why he left that spare stretch around the low branch on the tree, the important bit happens up there near the force field.

Her eyes widen pleadingly at me as I paint her face. The pity that seizes me is almost breathtaking. I roll my eyes.

"Stay down!" I hiss at her before I slide off her chest and run. I zigzag my way through the trees, making a lot of noise to draw them away.

"She's good as dead! Come on, Enobaria!" Brutus's voice booms through the jungle.

It worked. Dumb ass District 2, same as always.

I push myself a little harder and run full sprint towards the trunk of a nearby tree. I bounce off it and grab the lowest branch, swinging myself up into the safety of the canopy. I'll wait here in the darkness until they wander by. Then I'll drop down on them with an axe in each hand. All I have to do in the meantime is try not to fall.

_I've got a feeling you're going to make sure that doesn't happen._

Red's voice takes me completely by surprise, so much so that I immediately look around for more jabberjays.

You remind me of the Sun, Johanna.

"How so?" I whisper.

You seem harmless at first, beautiful even, but after a day of full exposure something gets burnt.

"Moral of the story: please don't expose yourself to me." I smile to myself.

Do you plan to die Johanna?

"No," I say firmly.

Good. See you at the final battle then.

The final battle is now. Enobaria and Brutus are on opposite sides of my tree, stalking. I take too long choosing my opponent, because by the time I'm teetering on the edge of my perch, ready to drop on Brutus, someone else comes to my aid.

"Johanna!" Finnick bellows. "Katniss!"

It distracts the Careers enough for me to launch my attack.

It seems great minds think alike because Chaff chooses that moment to launch his attack too. He must have been tracking them in the same way they were tracking us. He leaps out at Brutus from nowhere and slashes out with his cutlass sword. It barely skims the larger man's forearm. Now that they are both engaged, I drop down on top of Enobaria.

"What the—" she curses, as I swing both my arms outwards, praying that at least one of the weapons comes into contact with something. My right one takes a chunk out of her shoulder but it doesn't slow her down. She quickly has three throwing knives in her hands, which she rapidly flings in my direction faster than I can think. One catches me in the shoulder blade as I duck and twirl instinctively.

"Johanna, switch!" Chaff calls from behind me.

He dances around me to take on Enobaria while I fling one of my axes at Brutus, hoping his size will hinder his agility. It whistles past his head and stick into a nearby tree. Brutus only has one spear, so he keeps it to hand and we step around each other carefully. If he lunges at me, one swipe with my second axe could break apart his silly pointy stick, and then he'd have to come at me weaponless. But he won't do it. Instead he leers at me, grinning.

"I believe a couple of years ago you said I was a 'bullying, self-obsessed pig'," he laughs, and then stabs out with his spear. I skip away from it but he retracts his weapon quickly before I have chance to deface it.

"I talk how I like about whatever I like," I spit, quoting him. I swing my remaining axe in a sideways figure of eight between us.

Over his shoulder I can see Enobaria wiping a trickle of blood from her forehead. Chaff looks like he's coming off worse from that fight. He's sagged forward, holding his middle.

"Chaff! Are you ok?"

Brutus takes the opportunity to jab at me again, but this time he's overstretched it and then clubbed me in the side with the wooden shaft. I fall, winded, dropping my axe.

A hearty laugh towers above me.

"Just a little girl with a big attitude." He takes his spear in his fist and is about to drive it down into my abdomen when I kick out at his crotch. He crumples to his knees.

"Just a big man," I coo, tilting my head to one side, "With a _tiny_ weapon." I plant my foot into his face.

Chaff cries out. I leave Brutus on the ground, he's neutralized for now.

Enobaria has Chaff pinned up against a tree, one hand is restraining Chaff's good one and the other has a knife up against his throat. There's a bead of blood pooling at the blade. I've left my axe on the floor where I fell, so I grab her throat with both hands and pull her backwards. She snarls and gnashes those disgusting Capitol teeth at me.

"You've got something in your teeth dearie," I hiss in her ear.

"It'll be your throat in a minute _sweetheart_," she rasps back at me, but she loosens her grip on Chaff, allowing him to knock the knife out of her hand and duck away.

"Johanna!" Finnick calls again, this time so close I'm surprised I can't see him.

Enobaria snaps her head back, catching me just above the eyebrow. My left hand goes up to the rapidly swelling lump and the older woman whips another knife out and sinks it into my thigh. Now she's got me in the back _and_ the leg!

I seethe with red-hot anger.

"Johan—" Finnick crashes through the vines and flings his trident at Enobaria, without even stopping to finish his cry.

She hits the floor to avoid it and I stomp down on her fingers. They crack like dry twigs, making her howl.

A cannon fires.

The three of us turn towards the sound.

Brutus is back on his feet and has his spear in hand, and through Chaff. He's attacked him from behind, the spear at a downward angle entering Chaff's back, then protruding out through his pelvis. Brutus brutally reclaims his weapon, back through Chaff's body, the dead man flopping to the floor with his insides becoming…outsides.

"Johanna, run!" orders Finnick, picking up his trident again as Brutus advances. "Get up to the force field. Beetee and Peeta will need covering."

"No! Damn them!" I cry. I stride, with a slight limp due to the knife wound in my leg, over to the axe stuck in the tree and heave it out. "We're two-on-two again."

Enobaria leaps to her feet suddenly and takes off uphill.

"Where is _she_ going?" I muse.

"Beetee and Peeta!" Finnick moans.

"Well you told her where they were!" I exclaim.

We hot-foot it away from Brutus, we need to protect the plan and right now Brutus can be left behind with Chaff's body. Enobaria is the real threat. At least that's what I'm telling myself when I'm knocked to the ground from behind.

"Ok, ow," I gasp, trying to push myself up again. There's something wrong. I feel…heavier than usual.

"Johanna!" Finnick has stopped and is running back to me.

"I'm fine! Stop calling my name, just go!"

"You're not fine!" His eyes are wide with dismay.

"What? Yes I am, get out of here." I try to get up again, but can't get my balance. Why can't I get up?! I follow his gaze down. My breath catches with a gasp.

Brutus's spear is sticking out of the right side of my chest.

Finnick flings his trident away, towards Brutus, but I can't see where it's gone. He takes my axe from my hand and grabs the pole behind me.

I grab his arm.

"Don't pull it out!" I hiss. "If it's clipped my lung you'll kill me."

"I'm not an idiot," he replies, swinging the axe at the shaft. It snaps off so I don't have as much sticking out anymore. "Does it feel like it clipped your lung?"

I take a deep, slow, nervous breath in through my nose. I can feel the intruding material pressing hard into my side when my lungs are full, but no other effects, although that one effect is quite painful.

"No, I think I'm ok." He picks me up and sets me down with my back against a tree trunk. "Go, get after Enobaria." I push at his chest. "Get us out of here! I'm just going to catch my breath a moment."

"I'll come back for you."

"Yeah, you better."

He presses my axe back into my hand, cups my cheek and then takes off.

I'm pretty confident that I don't have any _serious_ internal injury so I carefully put a hand to the head of the spear and pull it out. It hurts. _Really _hurts. I have to close my eyes and scream through the effort. It slides gently out though and I drop it to the floor with a relieved moan.

When I open my eyes I spot Brutus. He's pulling Chaff's sword out from under his body. He swishes it around in front of him before starting towards me.

He's got a gash on his forehead that seems to be bleeding a lot, Finnick's trident didn't miss completely then.

I wait until his manic grin is close enough, wobble to my feet, and brandish my axe at him.

"Still got some fight in you then?" he chuckles.

"Until the moment my heart stops," I confirm.

"Not much longer then." He drives his sword into my wound, and I can't help the cry that breaks through my steely composure. My legs give out beneath me and I wobble down to my knees.

Brutus laughs again, which infuriates me. I chop downwards at my opponent's leg. I shave a good chunk of flesh off his calf, but he just hisses at me, twisting his sword in my shoulder.

Another figure crashes through the trees, over by Chaff's corpse.

"Chaff!" Peeta moans quietly, then sees Brutus and I in our little tableau. His face changes. I've never seen it look like this. I didn't think it could ever look like this. He's red, and angry, a vein throbs in his neck. He takes up a concealed knife and, with a running jump, plunges it deep into Brutus's back. With the surprise of the attack, Brutus's sword jerks upwards, opening my wound up to my collarbone. My own blood joins Katniss's on my face and neck. The way it's gushing I can't imagine how I'm managing to lift my arms, surely there's no blood in them anymore…

Peeta is still stabbing at Brutus. The older man's hand reaches up to Peeta's neck, but he just knocks it out of the way.

"Peeta," I croak, reaching out to him. "Peeta!"

He finally hears me.

"Johanna?" The veil lifts and his face returns to normal. He walks away from rasping, dying Brutus and offers me his hand. "Where's Katniss?"

He heaves me up a little too roughly and I gasp.

"Hopefully, on her way back up the hill," I tell him. I pull my hand away from my wound to find it dripping with blood. "I…er…"

Peeta grabs some moss off a nearby trunk and gets me to press it to my shoulder. It quickly turns dark green again, so we put more and more on it. I can't walk very fast, and I'm starting to feel dizzy so Peeta scoops me up into his arms, like he's done for the other invalids in the group.

"Back up the hill huh?" he asks.

I nod, so we go that way.

"Katniss!" he calls over and over. "Katniss!"

"Peeta! Peeta! I'm here! Peeta!" comes a panicked scream from further up.

In my dazed state, I notice the quiet in the jungle.

"Peeta, the insects…it's almost twelve."

"I'm here! I'm here! Peeta!" Katniss cries again.

We won't make it. He's slow enough as it is with his Capitol leg, never mind carrying me.

"Put me down," I tell him softly.

"What? No!" he protests.

"It's almost twelve, we're going to get caught in the lightning storm. You have to put me down and run."

A cannon fires. Brutus has finally given up the ghost.

"Put me down Peeta!" I order.

"No! Katniss!" he calls again. "They'll come help us. Katniss is stupid, she'll come to save me at the risk of her own life, that's why she keeps calling for me. She's trying to lure Brutus and Enobaria away from me."

"And me," I smile. "She won't come Peeta. I cut her up pretty bad, and if she _has_ hiked up all this way, she'll be in pretty bad shape."

"You cut her up?"

"Yes, so put me down and leave me!"

"Why did you do that?!"

"Because I'm a crazy bitch so put me down and save yourself!" My moss is soaked through again. "I'm dead anyway!"

"I'm not going to leave you," he says stubbornly.

"Not even to save the _mother of your child_?" I cry, and when that doesn't work, I change tack to one I'm more familiar with. "Peeta, any minute now I'm going to just punch you in the face and I will keep punching you in the face until you put me down. It won't be hard because I don't have the energy anymore, but I promise you it will be irritating."

He raises an eyebrow at me disbelievingly. I punch him in the nose…well, actually it's more of a caress with the fist.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I scream and kick the last of my energy away. My legs slip out of his grasp and he fumbles enough for me to claw my way out of his arms. Unfortunately I fall on my injured side and the jolt makes me vomit up the remains of our last meal.

"Get out!" I weakly kick at Peeta's ankles. He looks down at me in pity. "Get out," I whisper again. There's an ominous crackle of electricity in the air above.

Peeta turns to stare up at it, then looks up the slope.

"I'm sorry," he says without looking at me, and then runs away, just like Finnick did.

Here I am. Alone again.

They've got to make it. Finnick was heading uphill ages ago, he'll be there for…whatever's going to happen. Maybe Peeta will make it. He would have if I hadn't slowed him down. I'm starting to see why Mags walked into that fog.

Mags. I hope she's where I'm going.

My heart, which had been racing, has slowed down now to a pleasant beat. I smile and stare up at the branches criss-crossing above me.

Blight.

Egor.

Mother.

Father.

Joey.

Red.

I don't know why everyone puts up such resistance to death. I feel alright. My shoulder and chest don't hurt anymore. The ground is soft. This isn't so bad.

I close my eyes, hoping that will bring it on quicker.

_Don't fall asleep,_ Red's voice comes again. _If you sleep you might not wake up._

"That's what I said to you, you're getting confused now," I smile at no one.

_You have to wake up Johanna, the sun doesn't die._

"It's night time Red," I remind him…wherever he is.

_Yes, but the sun doesn't die at night does it smart ass! _That's a bit harsh. He's supposed to be being nice to me. I was nice to him when he was dying. _It just goes away for a bit, but it comes back just as fierce the next day. It's not over yet, come back fierce Johanna._

"No, I don't want to be fierce anymore. I'm tired of being fierce, I want to be asleep."

As if to make his point, a bolt of bright, white light shines through my eyelids. My eyes flutter open. It's the lightning, not a divine sign from a ghost. I can just about see the sky lighting up through the canopy. It's a deep blue, the same colour as the walls in Joey's bedroom. Then it starts to rain…wait not rain…I don't know what it is floating down around me. I don't care either…that is, until the explosions.

"I can't even die in peace!" I scream up at the firey sky. "Why won't you let me die?!"

As if to answer me, a hovercraft appears above amongst the fireworks…or are they explosions? It has a Capitol seal plastered across the bottom of it.

Oh no, I shut my eyes and will it away.

"Go away! Go away!" I moan. It's still there when I open them again, and it's dangling one of it's claws down towards me. Am I dead? Is that why I'm being collected? The claw closes around me and jars my wound.

The pain rips through my shoulder. Definitely not dead yet, and that makes me angry. I roll around unceremoniously inside their little 'grabber'; it's nothing like the way the living boards these things. When I'm high enough, I can see another hovercraft floating above the jungle, also with its claw down, gathering someone else from the belly of the arena. There's a spark down over by where I think the force field used to be. It looks like a third hovercraft, but it's smaller, different to the others. It rises and then zips away, a shower of 'fireworks' trailing it.

My claw releases me down onto a smooth, hard floor. I roll onto my side, it's the only movement I can make now. My cheek presses against the cold tiles, and I watch a Capitol nurse, in a white uniform so bright that it hurts my eyes, approach me with a tray of medical instruments.

"No," I mumble against the floor.

She lowers down to sit on her knees so I can see her face. Melanita.

"Don't worry, shhh."

I thought it was over. I should have died. It's not over. It's never going to be over. Red wouldn't let me die, and now I'm back right where I never wanted to be ever again.

"Johanna? Johanna?" She catches my chin between her finger and thumb and directs my face up to hers. "Listen to me. We're going to ask you some questions, and then we can make you better…" she shows me the tray with its array of tweezers, blades and scissors, "…or we can make you cry."

I spit in her revolting, smirking face.

Whatever they do to me, I will not talk and I will not cry. They can do whatever they like. I've been through so much already, been called many things: princess, brat, tribute, liar, victor, mentor, whore, bitch, dense as the forest, stubborn as a mule, dark as the night.

An eighteen-year-old boy once told me I reminded him of the sun.

I am Johanna Mason. My rage flames bright like the sun, and they will burn for what they have done to me, before they ever see me cry.

The End 


	97. Post-Script

**Post-Script**

That's it I'm afraid.

I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you all for reading my story, it's the first time I've _ever_ finished a writing project. I almost didn't want to finish it! My twitter people will know how much I've been agonising over posting this last chapter, but 10 months ago I decided to end it when Johanna got captured. 10 months ago, that felt like a very long time away, and I wasn't sure if I could see it out that long.

There have been times when it's been difficult to update and I just couldn't wait until it was finished. The only reason I forced myself to keep going during those difficult times was knowing that there were people still reading. For that I can't say thank you enough. I'm _so_ proud of myself for finishing and the only reason I finished is you lovely, lovely people!

I've had such wonderful reviews from you guys and made some amazing friends, who I only hope stick with me, even though the story is finished.

I am currently working on another little Johanna 'Epilogue', and also my own original story. I'm not very good at promoting myself (I think I'm too British) but if you liked 'Johanna', please try my own story, with my own characters, on , the sister site to this one. Here's a link,

s/3102678/1/Archangels

It's about a similarly strong-willed young girl and her discoveries about a Post-Apocalyptic society. I would love you all so much, if you liked it, if you could tell people and pass it on, like you've all done so amazingly with this one (Seriously, from what you've told me, some of you should consider careers in PR!). If you have a fanfiction account, then you should be able to sign in with the same details if you want to say hi : )

Thank you once again for spending your valued time reading and reviewing this fanfic of mine. You are all the very best of people and I can't thank you enough.

Arowana x


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